


The Eternal Shadow

by siwa33



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2020-09-23 10:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 68
Words: 135,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siwa33/pseuds/siwa33
Summary: Sir Guy had hoped for better things from a trip to the court of Prince John but with Vaisey it was always business...There were endless plots swimming round that head of his and Guy could not know to what extent he would become caught up in his master's schemes nor the price he would end up paying for them...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Having already written works based on series 2 and 3, I thought I'd have a go at series 1, which was basically an excuse to watch the early episodes of the show again... ;-)
> 
> This is a two part story.
> 
> Part 1 is set before Series 1.
> 
> Part 2 runs parallel to events of Series 1 up until Episode 8 - Tattoo? What Tattoo?
> 
> Disclaimer: all BBC Robin Hood characters and the show are the property of the BBC and Tiger Aspect Productions.
> 
> Now that this story is complete, I just want to say a big thank you to anyone who took/takes the time to read it.
> 
> There's bookshops full of great stuff to read, streaming services full of cool stuff to watch, not to mention the gems to be found on fanfiction websites such as this one, so when someone gives my story a chance, well, I'm really grateful.  
And when someone is so kind as to let me know they like my work, be it in the form of kudos or comments, well, that really bowls me over because we're asked to like or review so much of what we do these days so I can understand why a lot of the time we aren't really up for it.  
I can't tell you how awesome it is when somebody does though - it really makes my day - helps me keep writing when I get caught up in my doubts.
> 
> The story takes me where it wants to go and in this case it was 68 chapters and a lot of doubts - you can believe me when I say that your kindness inspires.
> 
> Cheers.

**Part 1 - The Failed Attempt**

I

Sir Guy of Gisborne was not a natural when it came to mingling at court.

His tall powerful frame made many nervous. His serious demeanour was off-putting to others. His reserved nature and tendency to give curt answers made conversation with him difficult. He'd not had exposure to what one would call good society since his parents had died, which meant that his manners were more that of a soldier than a man of rank. He'd had no example to learn from; Lord Vaisey was certainly a man of power but not a man of elegance, good manners or taste. Indeed, nothing he had learned thus far from his master was of help to him here at the court of Prince John; "your talents lie elsewhere" Vaisey gleefully reminded him at every opportunity.

This was on his mind as he surveyed the opulent scene before him whilst waiting for the elder man. He noticed the way his fellow courtiers glanced at him and quickly averted their eyes, he knew that he appeared coarse to them, his clothes were not so fine and his manners not so polished but considering the life he'd lived it could hardly be otherwise.

_I don't suppose many of these fine noblemen spent yesterday evening beating some poor soul senseless as I had to..._

He looked down at his hands and was thankful to have not forgotten his gloves; "we can't have the ladies seeing those knuckles Gizzy..." Vaisey would say. He sighed and brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose; he had hoped for better things from this trip to court but no, with Vaisey it was always business. The lord liked to remind his subordinates where their loyalties lay at every opportunity and that was where Guy came in: to do the reminding.

"Good Morning Sir Guy."

Guy straightened up and brought his gaze to the greeter: a portly, grey haired nobleman standing nearby with his two daughters; both were of age, the younger was nothing special but the elder was certainly worth looking at.

"Good Morning Lord Cavendish, Lady Natalia and Lady… Francesca?" Guy silently prayed he'd gotten it right; his attention had been focussed upon the elder sister Natalia and so he'd barely noticed the younger sibling upon being introduced to the family a few days previously.

"Well remembered Sir Guy!" Natalia exclaimed with a smile. There followed a small hubbub as father and elder sister declared their surprise; it seemed that it was not unusual for the youngest daughter to go unnoticed and unremembered. She for her part nodded but made no fuss. He looked once more to Natalia, happy to have pleased her but then his smile faded upon seeing his master approaching.

"Making friends Gisborne?" Vaisey's smile was oily and he smoothly placed a hand upon the shoulder of the beauty.

_Well yes, I was but now that you've arrived…_

Guy sighed and reluctantly began with introductions; "Yes my lord, this is…"

"Lord Cavendish and his enchanting daughters!" Vaisey interrupted loudly to spare them all a second introduction, bowing in an over the top manner to the ladies and looking pointedly at the more enchanting of the two. She was certainly enchanting but not at all enchanted with Vaisey, that much was obvious and Guy wished he could usher her away from his master's attentions.

"Good Morning Lord Vaisey." Lord Cavendish moved towards Vaisey and seemed, much to Guy's surprise, pleased to see him. The daughters moved closer together and further away from Vaisey - a response Guy was more accustomed to seeing from others in Vaisey's presence. Guy decided to approach them, Vaisey was discussing something uninteresting with their father and so it was as good a chance as any he was going to get…

"Are you enjoying it here at court, milady?" He knew that in looking at Natalia as he asked this, he hadn't addressed the younger sister with his question but couldn't care less. If she noticed this snub, she didn't let on, she merely stood to the side and looked on politely.

"Oh yes! We are enjoying it very much, are we not Fran?" Natalia replied looking enthusiastically from her sister to Guy. Francesca nodded and gave a small smile but other than that looked as if she wished she was somewhere else.

"We have met a great deal of interesting people and made many new acquaintances." Natalia continued and Sir Guy hoped that she would consider him a new acquaintance; he would at any rate enjoy getting better acquainted with her. "How about you Sir Guy?"

He was about to answer and would've said something along the lines of how he was honoured to have the opportunity to be there but unfortunately Vaisey beat him to it; "Gisborne hates it here. Not much good at chitchat I'm afraid. He has his uses certainly, but if you want a decent conversation you might be better off moving on my dear." He accompanied this comment with a toothy grin and a satisfied sniff before patting Natalia on the shoulder much in the way one would pat a small child or a dog. Guy clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to use his 'talents' on Vaisey. Natalia smiled awkwardly and Guy could tell that he had already lost here; any protest would just make things worse.

"Ah well, we can't all be the life and soul of the party can we? Just ask Fran here!" Lord Cavendish gestured to his youngest daughter, who lowered her head in order to hide her distress at being roped into the discussion. Cavendish had come to Guy's aid with this statement and Guy was glad of it but it had been at the girl's expense and he could see the flash of irritation in her eyes as she lowered her gaze to the floor. She took a deep breath and pressed her lips together tightly in a forced smile before raising her head again.

As her eyes met with Guy's, it was as if nothing had happened, her expression gave nothing away and her smile was as courteous as it had been earlier. Guy felt in that moment a pang of recognition; she took the digs well, he had to give her that, she didn't complain…

_No point is there little mouse? You know it just as well as I…_

Unsurprisingly, the family took their leave not long after, leaving Guy to silently curse his master. He found it difficult enough mingling with others but Vaisey made it practically impossible for him. The Lord sensed his unease, "Oh come on Gizzy, cheer up; if all goes to plan you'll be beating them off with a stick in a few years time."

_Who needs a stick with you at my side?_


	2. Chapter 2

II

Guy was sure that Vaisey had a sixth sense about people. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly the man could look at a person, know what was going on with them and use this to his advantage. He often wondered if he had sold his soul for the ability to read minds. Guy didn't consider himself unintelligent but at times felt completely inadequate in comparison - it was not that he was out of the loop but somehow always several steps behind.

It was this facet of Vaisey's personality that had first drawn him to the elder man. In those dark days following the death of his parents he had not been in a position to refuse anybody who chose to help him but it was this in particular that had captured his attention and fascinated him. He'd coveted this ability for himself, had hoped to learn it, to use it to rise and become powerful in his own right, but no, it had never happened, and here he was - still at Vaisey's side, wondering how he did that, how he knew these things… he was now perhaps better able to catch his drift but never entirely up to speed.

Take Willy for example; as Guy had clapped eyes on the man, he had thought him nothing more than a pathetic waif; hungry, dirty and desperate but Vaisey had seen an opportunity. He had seen need. He had seen fear. These were things he could use… and once again, it had been the speed of it that had astounded Guy - Vaisey had endless plots swimming round that head of his and he'd just had to take one look at Willy to know exactly how such a man could serve him.

There was however always a catch. It was one thing being able to read people and use them to your advantage; it was another to see them fail to live up to your expectations. This seemed to be where Vaisey's schemes always fell down: he expected too much. He hated to be disappointed and usually was. This was something the waif had now learnt the hard way. As Vaisey saw it, he had done all the leg work with Willy; he had pulled him out of the gutter, cleaned him up, polished him off, got him installed in Lord Winchester's household, (Winchester was of course blissfully unaware of Vaisey's involvement), and now he expected results. He didn't care that Winchester had barely been at home, he didn't care that he was a careful man who kept all of importance under lock and key, he expected results and Willy had not delivered. That is why Guy had to 'remind' him.

Guy had reached a point where he could, to a certain degree, block out uncomfortable feelings concerning such 'reminders' but he took no pleasure in hurting a man to achieve the desired effect. He understood why it was necessary but he was not unfeeling, he had gone through too much himself to be able to ignore suffering in others. Vaisey on the other hand seemed to have no such qualms; he seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on others and Guy wondered what exactly had happened to the man to make him this way or was there perhaps a small part of Vaisey that recognised and regretted suffering just as with him?

_If there is, he keeps it well hidden… _

As he looked upon Willy now, cowering in fear before him, his body a wretched mess from the damage inflicted upon him the previous evening; Guy couldn't help but wish that he did not feel. How much easier life would be if he could cut off this part of him and do whatever was required without the echoes of remorse he felt deep inside. As he watched his master place a hand upon Willy's shoulder, a sly grin spreading across the elder man's face as the frightened victim flinched at his touch, Guy marvelled at Vaisey's ease and felt disgust at his own discomfort before not two seconds later feeling exactly the opposite.

It was a conflict of emotions that he kept well hidden. Vaisey would only see such sentiment as weakness and with the elder man it was never good to appear weak.

Then at last, Willy was free to go. This was not mercy on Vaisey's part; it was merely prudent not to hurt the man so much that he could not serve his purpose. He would go back to Winchester and Guy hoped that he would find something.

_Heaven help him if not._

* * *

"Now don't think I haven't noticed…" Vaisey purred, his fingers trailing slowly over Guy's shoulders as he passed him by, Guy cringed at the tone of voice and the silken touch his lord bestowed upon him, "that your mind has been on other things of late..."

"My lord?" Guy knew exactly where this conversation was headed but knew better than to let on.

"Lepers Gisborne…"

_Here we go…_

"I need you sharp, I can't have you distracted…"

Vaisey paced slowly, his fingers trailing casually over random objects about the room as he spoke. Guy remained seated and tried not to smirk. He supposed there was nothing funny about having his lord talk to him as if he was some juvenile idiot but then his humour had become somewhat warped over the years and this old perennial always did bring out the worst of it.

"Can't have you going soft…"

_Heaven forbid…_

"Brain elsewhere…"

_Surely not…_

"Daydreaming and such…"

_Me? Thinking about something other than your delightful company? No…_

"It won't do…"

_No, it will not… _

"We have plans…"

_Indeed…_

"Irons in the fire…"

Guy kept his gaze fixed on a scratch in the woodwork of the table in front of him, he'd always found that keeping his focus on something uninteresting helped him to keep his face straight throughout these sermons.

"I need you with me…"

Guy nodded to conceal the sigh that escaped his lips and then froze as Vaisey's hand snaked around the nape of his neck. This was always the point where it wasn't so humorous anymore. He felt the fingers curl around the delicate skin and then slide up against his jaw, inelegantly pulling his head up to rest against the elder man's chest. Guy was long past the phase of flinching when Vaisey did this to him but it took utmost restraint on his part, that of course being exactly what his master wanted him to do.

Then with a quick caress of the thumb against Guy's cheek, he released his grip and walked around the table so that he could look directly at him. Guy let out the breath he had been holding and schooled his features as best he could to conceal his unease before looking up at Vaisey who was leaning over the table now lowering his face towards him.

"I need to be able to trust you…"

Guy nodded his head and kept his eyes upon his lord. He kept his expression neutral, something he was very good at. He'd heard many versions of this speech over the years and despite the amused exasperation he felt upon hearing it these days, he knew better than to let his guard down.

"Can I trust you? Hmm?" Vaisey studied his features intently and Guy nodded dutifully just as he always did.

"Good." Vaisey smiled down at his faithful servant before backing away from the table. "Eyes on the prize Gisborne. They look down their noses at you now but it will be a different story soon enough."

Guy knew that he was not just talking about the nobles at court, or a girl who had caught his eye, or her father who probably had better ideas than to consider a landless knight a match for his daughter but in fact all who deemed to look down upon him.

As he watched Vaisey stalk out of the room, apparently satisfied with their chat, he knew that despite his urge to roll his eyes at these speeches, they were not without reason. Vaisey knew exactly what was going on with him just as he did with everybody else and could tell when his eyes strayed to the horizon, when what he wanted could not come to him quickly enough.

_We both know what I want don't we my lord? It has never changed…_

He wanted all that his parents had had… all that his parents had wanted him to have... His heart ached to think that at his age his parents had already known the happiness that he so longed for.

_Is it so strange that my mind strays from the life I have to the life I want? _

Vaisey understood that it was not and used this to his advantage to get what he wanted from Guy. He always had. Guy knew this too - he might be Vaisey's lieutenant but he was not an exception to the rule, he was just like any other, got his reminders like any other as well. He could live with this arrangement, (not that he had a choice in the matter), were it not for the suspicion that the things he wanted were actually getting further away from him, that he was deliberately tangled up in the myriad of Vaisey's schemes to keep him from that which he so desired.

It had not escaped his notice that the promised 'prize' was always at some indeterminate point in the future - 'soon enough' or 'when all goes to plan'.

_Carrot and stick Gisborne, not a difficult concept…_

He sighed and thought of Natalia Cavendish. Would the day ever come that he could have that?

_A man can dream can't he? _

As he then heard Vaisey humming somewhere in the corridor nearby, he snapped himself out of it.


	3. Chapter 3

III

Another day, another banquet.

Guy enjoyed the fine food but found that he tired of the company. Vaisey had an insatiable appetite for gossip and intrigue that made Guy's head spin. He was flattered to be privy to much that went on, placed so advantageously at his master's side but craved a wider variety of people to look at and listen to than the old man and his cronies…

and there was one person he especially craved to look at and listen to…

As he looked at the object of his desire, (discreetly, God knows he could do without another of Vaisey's chats right now), he wondered what a man would have to do to win the heart of one such as Natalia Cavendish. She was stunningly beautiful with long golden hair, pale blue eyes and full pink lips he would kill to get a taste of. Her figure was slim, her skin golden and her cheekbones high; she was perfection itself, Guy decided.

As he turned his gaze to her father, he could only think that her mother must have been a goddess for he was certainly nothing special… and as for the sister… she…... she wasn't there. Guy frowned for a moment but then thought no more of it; he noticed her family did not seem to be missing her.

He continued to watch Natalia in the hope that at some point he might find an opportunity to speak to her alone, Vaisey and his chats be damned. The lord was busy gossiping with his minions anyway and she couldn't sit there with her father all evening, surely she would move around the room to speak to acquaintances, perhaps he would be lucky. When she eventually did stand up to go and do presumably just that, Guy knew the moment had come.

He swiftly took his leave, saying nothing to those at his table and ignoring Vaisey's quizzical look in his direction. All he cared for was to keep her in view. He weaved his way through the crowds and rejoiced as he caught up to her only to be disappointed the very next moment: he'd been beaten to the post by an elderly lady.

His heart sunk. He'd already met the woman, a renowned chatterbox, and knew that he wouldn't be able to get a word in edgeways and so it was as she began to ramble on about the usual variety of bland subjects: the feast, the number of guests and so on.

He sighed. It was no use. He figured he wouldn't make much of a charming conversation partner anyway with the mood he was in. He hung his head and made a beeline for the door; he had no desire to hear any more of Vaisey's chatter right now.

He took a few moments to compose himself in the courtyard when voices from the stables caught his attention. It seemed that even here he was to have no peace. He stormed over there with the intention of telling whoever it was to shut the hell up…

…but stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Francesca Cavendish.

Upon meeting the girl, he had decided in an instant that she was ordinary in every way. _She is a mouse_ he'd thought slyly to himself, plain and mousy, even her hair was mousy brown. Everything about her was unremarkable. Average build, average height, average features… everyday, average, dull. This could only be accentuated when one considered the beauty of her sister.

So strange then, that the world seemed to tilt on it's head as he entered the stables that evening and beheld her.

She looked radiant.

The image of her became instantly branded on his mind.

She was talking with the stable groom, admiring horses, and the smile on her face made her look positively luminous. She was listening intently to all that he said, her eyes wide and wondrous. Guy remained silent, fixed to the spot and observed them from afar, transfixed by the change in her. He could not exactly pinpoint what it was, for overall, she was the same girl and yet… she seemed so… different somehow… so… _happy?_

Guy had quickly discovered that genuine happiness was not something one encountered often at court. Yes, there were many people who pretended to be happy, hiding behind fake smiles whilst regaling others with false words but true happiness was something else altogether, something rare. Francesca's smile that evening was perhaps the first real smile he'd seen since his arrival.

After watching her a few moments more, he shook his head as if to shake off his own confusion at having seen her so, and moved towards her.

"Good evening Lady Francesca." He greeted sternly.

Her face fell.

The smile was gone in an instant, replaced with an impassive tight-lipped shadow of a smile. Guy felt almost pain at the change in her demeanour and couldn't understand why it bothered him, after all, she was nothing to him was she?

"Good evening Sir Guy." Her greeting was polite and formal, as it should be, but to Guy it seemed cold having seen her talking so animatedly with the groom.

"I saw your father and sister earlier and wondered at your absence." This was a lie; he had noticed her absence but certainly hadn't wondered anything about it.

"You did?" Her answer was merely a courtesy; her face spoke volumes of her scepticism and he found he couldn't blame her for it.

"Why are you not inside with your family?" His voice was hard and authoritative; he regarded her with a severe expression whilst folding his arms in front of his chest.

As she looked to the floor he realised he was making her feel uncomfortable and was once again puzzled at why he seemed to care about this. After a moment, she raised her eyes to his and with a soft voice replied, "I prefer it here."

"You…?" His frown deepened and he looked at her as if she were strange. She received his look with a weary expression, one that told him that his reaction was one she was familiar with. "…You prefer being out here with the horses than inside with your family?"

"Yes Sir! I have never seen so many! my father sometimes has friends to visit but…" she began to explain enthusiastically but stopped midsentence. If Sir Guy had been looking at her as if she were strange before, he was looking at her as if she was positively cuckoo now. The groom took the opportunity to leave during this tense lull in the conversation, he'd been feeling uncomfortable since Sir Guy's arrival and couldn't wait to get back to his duties. Francesca looked on sadly, gesturing to him as he walked away and lamely added, "Joseph was telling me about them."

"But your family will want you with them surely?" The look that accompanied this comment unnerved Francesca, forcing her eyes down to the floor. As useful as Guy's ability to give a look that could cut through bone often was, he was often unable to moderate his use of this ability and this was one of those moments.

However, Francesca was used to being subjected to looks that could wound and so after taking a deep breath, raised her head once more and looked at him directly.

"Sir, I am, as my father so often cares to remind me, 'neither use nor ornament' and so what shall I do in there? I have no talent for gossip, no taste for dancing, not that anybody would ask me, and am only useful in that I make my sister look better."

He was visibly taken aback by this statement. It was not the fact that she was correct in her assessment of the situation for yes, she was indeed destined to always play second fiddle to a stunning elder sister, it was _way_ she said it that got to him; she spoke as if merely stating an accepted fact. It was as if she had resigned herself to being a nobody and that was what was so strange to him; he, who had fought so long not to be a nobody.

She must have sensed his sadness for she then went on to say; "Do not pity me Sir, I find no pleasure in parties and socializing, so it is just as well really."

He frowned and continued to study her. She was looking over at the groom, who was busy working nearby, perhaps in the hope that he would come back and rescue her from him and he felt a pang of remorse at this. His gaze seemed to soften then and he cleared his throat to speak; "You prefer horses to parties?"

She looked up at him in surprise as she detected a note of humour in his voice then nodded and smiled. "Yes Sir, I would've ridden my own horse here but father insisted we all sit in the carriage."

Her face seemed to light up once more as she spoke of her horse and Guy found himself smiling at that. He quickly corrected himself, returning his features to their previous expression but not before she caught a glimpse of that smile and had to admit that at that moment, he looked _almost… handsome_… Now it was her turn to frown as she mentally scolded herself for thinking such things.

There followed an uncomfortable silence as she stood fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve and Guy looked to the groom as if in hope that that he might return and rescue the conversation.

Then suddenly, the knight straightened up abruptly. "Come with me" he said, as if giving an order and she looked at him puzzled, eyes wide in surprise.

_What could he possibly want with me? _

He strode off and not wanting to displease him, she followed warily. Upon seeing him stop before one of the stalls, she stopped a few metres from him and looked on in confusion. With a smirk, he beckoned her to him and opened the gate. Upon seeing the magnificent animal inside, she became a vision of joy once more and Guy was mesmerized. It was as if the happiness that graced her features lit up the room, filling every inch of space, infecting all onlookers, himself included. It did not escape him that the groom had stopped with his tasks to observe her and was grinning broadly.

"Oh Sir Guy! It is the finest horse I've ever seen!" She declared breathlessly and Guy's bay stallion chose that moment to nicker, as if in agreement with her. This caused her to laugh warmly, her eyes glittering with mirth and Guy found himself laughing quietly as well. Without further ado, he walked to his steed and with a playful smile beckoned her over.

Joseph nearly fell over at the sight; the knight practically never smiled, then he then looked to the girl and could see why; her smile was pure sunshine - who could wonder that it carried over even to one as ill-tempered as Sir Guy.

Francesca looked at him with eyes of wonder; that he was being so kind to her was a revelation. She had paid him little notice thus far for she'd had no reason to; he was merely another suitor buzzing round her sister and a very stern looking one at that but now…

He was standing beside her as she began to fuss over the horse; she was too shy to touch the animal but as Guy told her that it was alright, his voice was so low and so soft that she felt a shiver go through her. As she tentatively reached out to stroke the beast upon the nose, she secreted a glance at the tall, dark man and felt her stomach tighten: he was smiling in a strange lopsided way that made her cheeks glow hot and her legs feel unsteady.

_Good lord. _ _ **That** _ _ is a smile._

As the horse nickered again and went to nuzzle his master, Francisca began to laugh once more as Guy good-naturedly received his horse's affection, tickling the animal on the nose and then behind the ear, before bringing his eyes to the girl once more. She was tilting her head as she looked at him and her smile went all the way up to her eyes.

Then they stood a while saying nothing, looking at the horse and risking glances at each other when they thought the other was not looking until she finally broke the silence to thank him for his kindness. He said nothing, only shook his head as if to say 'none of that' and continued stroking the horse's mane.

For a heartbeat they were staring at each other directly, the joyful smiles had become shy ones and the looks they were giving each other were searching ones. She was the first to look away; whatever this was, this moment they shared, it had become too much for her. Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out for her hand, why he did this he did not know, (a friendly gesture to set her at ease, he later told himself), but just as his hand brushed hers, he heard a voice from outside and drew back from her as if that small touch had burnt him.

"There you are Fran! I should've known I would find you here!"

It was Natalia Cavendish. She did not look happy. She quickly reined in her anger however upon seeing that her sister was not alone. "Well Sir Guy, I must say I did not expect to find you here." She raised one eyebrow in surprise, looking him up and down before fixing Francesca with a cold stare, "I hope Fran is not being tiresome to you Sir, when it comes to horses, she is a terrible bore I'm afraid."

Guy brought his gaze from the woman he'd so longed to speak to all evening to the one he'd just reached out to touch and if he had believed in such nonsense he would've sworn that it physically hurt him to behold her now. Gone was the happy luminous girl, whose laughter had filled the room with warmth and back was the mouse; quiet, formal, closed off.

"Not at all milady." He replied softly.

"She's been no trouble at all milady I assure you, t'was a pleasure to show her 'bout the place." All looked to Joseph standing nearby. He had been watching the proceedings out the corner of his eye and couldn't help but put in a good word for the young lady, who obviously cared deeply for the animals. Guy looked to Francesca once more and was pleased to see the smile that had bloomed upon her lips. Unfortunately it didn't last.

"Pleasure or not, my sister should not be here, I have told her a thousand times that the stables are no place for a lady and what do I find? Here she is again with the hem of her skirts trailing through the dirt." Natalia scolded icily, her eyes fixed upon the younger girl as she did so.

Both Guy and Joseph took a step back in surprise at this outburst. Francesca remained where she was and said nothing. Her expression remained neutral as she swallowed her anger and once more Guy felt a pang of recognition,

_This is no uncommon occurrence is it little mouse?_

"No harm done surely milady? Dirt will come out in the wash." Joseph said kindly.

"If I'd wanted your opinion I would've asked for it!" Natalia replied curtly. Joseph took another step back before hastily taking his leave of the stables, knowing better than to argue. Guy looked to Francesca and saw the anger flashing in her eyes and the small shake of her head but then, just as quickly as it had arrived, it was gone.

She walked over to Natalia and in an even voice declared, "Come sister, let us go inside, we would not wish for your gown to become dirty would we?"

Natalia smiled as if her temperamental outburst had not taken place. Guy smirked, when it came to placating her sister, Francesca was a natural.

Natalia then turned her attention to the knight and flashed him a charming smile. As she then offered him her arm (to escort her back to the great hall), all thoughts of Francesca left his brain and he gratefully accepted.

Now it was Francesca's turn to smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

IV

Guy had always been quick to take offence. If he detected any hint of being slighted, his anger knew no bounds.

How strange then that he should come to serve a man who enjoyed abusing him at every opportunity.

It had not always been this way; Vaisey had made sure to build Guy up before indulging in his taste for malicious humour, doing all that he could to make his boy as beholden to him as he could be before slowly chipping away at him. Luckily for Vaisey, Guy's ambition and thirst for power (tied to his desire to regain his lands) was stronger than his urge to retaliate.

Most of the time.

There had been a few occasions where Vaisey had overstepped the mark, when the timing had been wrong, where he'd read Guy incorrectly, underestimated the force of the man's temper and overestimated his ability to talk him down and sooth the barbs. Even the strongest rock can break if you chip away at it long and hard enough. Fortunately, Guy had always held back at the critical moment knowing that the death of his master would mean his own. His desire to end the man lessened when contemplating the noose that would await him for doing so.

Still, as Guy joined his master and the family Cavendish to dine at the court of Prince John one evening, nobody could tell just how close he was to breaking point once more.

He'd had a terrible week.

Firstly, despite all best efforts he had to admit that he was getting nowhere with Natalia Cavendish. The evening she had allowed him to escort her back to the banquet hall had been promising, they had talked for a while and Guy was sure that he'd made a good impression upon her. He knew that he was not the most eloquent of men but figured that he was not entirely devoid of charm... and then there was the matter of his looks...

He was aware that he was an attractive man and knew when a woman was stirred by him, he might not be able to read people as well as Vaisey but he could tell when a woman looked at him in_ that_ way. The problem was that although he could recognise attraction, he could not recognise affection or in this case the lack of it. He assumed that the two came together, a fallacy that came back to bite him for although Natalia showed signs that she found him attractive, she did not seem to find him worthy of her affection, showing no interest in him other than as yet another man wishing to court her.

Then there was the matter of Prince John. As pleasant as it was to be at his court, they were not there for grand banquets and fine music, they were there on business. The problem was that Prince John didn't seem to realise it (or didn't seem to care, more likely) and fobbed them off endlessly. This put Vaisey in a bad mood and as much as Guy often disliked Vaisey in a good mood, he always detested Vaisey in a bad mood.

It was on a break from Vaisey's vicious temper (rubbing gingerly at his stinging cheek where Vaisey had let out his frustrations on him) that he discovered something that threatened to push him over the edge.

He had become a subject of court gossip.

He and Francesca Cavendish.

He was mortified…

and extremely angry.

_That they could think such a thing…_

It took him every ounce of self-control he had not to go over to the group of nobles who were gossiping about him and show them just what he thought of their conversation but first he would find Vaisey - it wouldn't surprise him if this was his fault, the old man had most likely come out with some flippant remark and now he was a laughing stock.

Just as he was about to storm off to confront him, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of the man himself stood talking with Lord Cavendish and his family. As Vaisey then looped his arm through Francesca's, looking pointedly at Guy, his smug toothy grin directed at the knight, thoroughly enjoying yet another opportunity to torment him, Guy's suspicions were confirmed. Guy froze on the spot trying to get a grip on his anger, his fingers curling into fists, his face like thunder. He then looked to Francesca, who squirmed uneasily, her eyes wide in alarm looking confusedly at her sister and her father in hope that they would do something about this man who was not so much escorting her as forcing her along to the banquet hall.

Guy watched as they went inside, a torrent of angry curses running though his mind. It was a lose-lose situation: If he went to dine with Vaisey, and thus, the Cavendish family, it would be hell and people would talk but at least he would have the chance to say something on the matter, whereas if he didn't, they would talk anyway and God knows what Vaisey would tell them all.

He stood there deliberating for a few moments but already knew that he would go to them, he didn't like to give Vaisey the satisfaction but at least that way he would have a modicum of control over the situation.

* * *

"Tsk Gisborne, don't you know it is rude to keep a lady waiting?" Vaisey moved closer to Francesca who was sitting unwillingly beside him, his self-satisfied smile widening as he gestured that Guy should sit down on his other side. Francesca looked at Vaisey as if he was mad. Guy rolled his eyes and took his seat with a weary sigh.

"You had us all wondering where you'd gotten to, is that not so my dear?" Vaisey continued, leering at her. She looked at him with barely disguised disgust and shifted her seat towards her sister on her other side. Natalia looked at her father in amusement and Guy wondered at them both, they could not believe this nonsense surely? They could not think that he had designs on Francesca?

_Can they not see that this is yet another of his games? That all he wants is to get at me?_

"But he is here now my dear, all is well." Vaisey fixed her with a creepy smile and stroked his hand over hers. She instantly pulled her hand to her lap and shifted even further away, lowering her head to look only at her meal.

"Oh dear Gisborne, she seems not too happy that you kept her waiting." Vaisey declared and it was then that she looked at Guy, having previously avoided his gaze, sensing his anger. Her face spoke volumes of her distress and for the first time he got over his own self-centred anger at the situation and thought of her. It was plain that she wanted nothing to do with any of this; that she was not some hopeful who had spread rumours wishing to ensnare him and that all she wished for was that they would leave her alone.

_But if she has not talked of our encounter in the stables then who…?_

As he turned his gaze to Natalia and observed her whispering and laughing with her father, he realised…

_It was _ _ **you** _ _… _

_You did this to me… to her… for what? For your own amusement? _

A fresh wave of anger crashed over him and he began to see red. He could understand Vaisey, this sort of thing was par for the course with him but that _she_ would treat him so, that she would humiliate him like this…

He was lost to his outrage for a while, deaf to all around him, oblivious even to servants bringing him food which didn't go unnoticed by his lord; "Come now Gisborne, you've barely touched your plate, don't you want to be finishing up so you can go and show Lady Francesca your horse again?" Vaisey's voice was dripping with innuendo and all nearby began laughing raucously. The sight of Natalia joining in pushed Guy over the edge and he stood up abruptly, about to tell everyone just what he thought of them...

but…

…the sight of Francesca raising herself from her seat stopped him.

"Sir Guy?" She looked up at him nervously, her posture rigid but her voice clear. All in the near vicinity were silent, intrigued by this twist in events.

"Sir Guy, I would like to apologise to you if I could…"

Even Vaisey was silent for a change, frowning but curious.

"I'm sorry that you have to listen to this on my behalf, I truly beg your pardon…"

Guy looked at her astonished. She didn't look away, only giving a small nod to emphasize her sincerity.

"What are you blathering on about?" Lord Cavendish interrupted angrily. She kept her eyes on Guy a moment longer hoping he could see that she meant what she said before turning her attention to her father.

"I merely wished to express my regret that Sir Guy has become an object of everybody's mockery father; he has done nothing to deserve it."

Guy's astonishment grew; that she would speak in his defence astounded him.

"But who asked you? Did you Lord Vaisey? I didn't and I don't see anybody else here who wished to hear it." Cavendish replied icily. All looked on in uneasy silence, a few shifted nervously in their seats wanting to leave, the hostile tone making them uncomfortable.

Francesca forced her lips into a tight smile. "Of course, you are right but I have said it now so there it is…" her father was about to interrupt her but she fixed him with an impatient frown to signal that she had not finished. She then trained her gaze on the rest of the guests at the table and with a hard edge to her voice continued; "if anybody wishes to satisfy their strange curiosity for what went on in the stables the other night I suggest they direct their questions to Joseph the stable groom who was present the entire time."

Guy couldn't take his eyes from her, stunned that she could be so calm.

"Are you still here? What have I told you about speaking out of turn?" Cavendish rounded on her angrily and now one or two did get up to leave, finding nothing funny about any of this anymore. Francesca lowered her head and Guy found himself getting angry again. It didn't last long though for she raised her head and with a shuttered impassive expression regarded her angry parent.

"Of course father, I shall go forthwith and vex you no longer." There was no malice in her tone but there was no warmth either and Guy could not help but be amazed at her ability to control her emotions. Looking at her, nobody would've suspected that she had just been subjected to such an angry tirade in front of a crowd of people. Guy did however see one small detail that most would've missed: before she turned to leave she directed a cold look at her sister, one that he utterly approved of for it was her fault that this had happened.


	5. Chapter 5

V

"How about we go and pay our good friend Winchester a visit eh?" Vaisey suggested, his fingers crooking into air commas as he purred the words 'good friend' sarcastically.

Guy, who was relieved not to see any of the gossiping idiots at court for a while, was pleased with this suggestion. He wished above all to avoid Natalia Cavendish, fearing his temper would get the better of him in her presence. He had tossed and turned all night thinking of her and what she'd done. Part of him had tried to play it down, consider the matter a lapse of judgement or a bit of harmless mischief but if he was honest, it cut him deep. It was bad enough that she'd already made it clear she considered him unworthy of her but that she would play with him… as a cat does with a mouse…

_Is that how she thinks of me? A dull mouse not worthy of her attention… just like…_

It hit him like a slap in the face: the realisation that the way he saw Francesca was exactly how Natalia saw him. He felt a surge of indignant anger forming low in his belly and running hot and fast through his veins making him shake with it's force. It did not occur to him that he had been just as bad, that he himself had been guilty of such indifference towards another and that his uncharitable thoughts about the younger sister had not bothered him in the slightest… No, his anger now was because the indifference was being directed at him and he couldn't bear it. It stung his ego, which he had taken such pains to build up, forgetting that at the end of the day there are always two people involved in courtship and one is not entitled to the good opinion of the other just because one desires it.

To Guy, rejection was probably one of the worst sins one could commit against him, right up there with betrayal. Vaisey had made him do all manner of terrible things and had done all manner of terrible things to him but he had never rejected him. Guy could remember each and every rejection in his life starting with the one that had hurt him the most: the banishment of himself and his sister from their rightful lands. He had sworn that day that he would never let anyone reject him again only for his mother's relatives in France do the very same not long after. Then Vaisey came along and made sure that nobody would ever send him away again.

On the road to Winchester, as the distance between himself and his troubles grew, he'd hoped the muddy waters of his emotions would begin to settle...

instead things only got worse...

and all because of a ribbon.

Dark blue, the colour of a stormy sea, braided loosely through a lock of his horse's mane.

He instantly knew who had done it.

In that first moment, he found himself frowning in puzzlement: _why had she?_ This was followed by anger: _how dare she?_ Then came amusement: _calm down now Gisborne, it is just a ribbon…, _which soon turned to unease:

_Yes but is it?_

Was it just a ribbon for a horse? Was it a thank you for showing her the horse? Was it another way to apologise as she had done the previous evening? Was it a way to capture his attention? Did she want something from him? What did she want from him? Was she hoping for his friendship? Was she hoping for… no… she could not possibly…? Could she? Could she be hoping for something more? Was she trying for something more? Was she trying to _ensnare_ him?

With the time and space the journey to Winchester allowed him, his mind inflated the matter out of all proportion. Not in a good way. He was also completely blind to the fact that he was being hypocritical in his reaction: he'd spent most of the night cursing Natalia for her sense of superiority over him but when it came to Francesca, he was no better. He was seemingly incapable of realising that just because he had no interest in the girl that did not mean he was her superior or that she had no right to do what she had done for whatever reason.

Even if she did have designs on him, it was not as if she was a servant and he conveniently forgot that it had never bothered him if a servant had wanted him, if he deemed her pretty enough to warm his bed that is... No, he decided to see it all from his own selfish perspective which boiled down to _I don't want her so how dare she? _

By the time they reached Winchester, he'd worked himself into a fine snit, snarling unkindly at all who came near him, only keeping himself in check for Vaisey and Winchester.

* * *

"Winchester you old dog! Good to see you! How's things in Sussex?"

Vaisey never wasted time when it came to needling. He knew that Winchester had been taking an avid interest in Sussex, looking to get a piece of that action (with little success) and so he couldn't help but remind his 'good friend' of the fact.

"Not too bad, not too bad I assure you, I'm keeping tabs on the situation and well, you know how it is don't you Vaisey?" Winchester gave as good as he got and had no qualms reminding Vaisey just how little he had going on either.

"I was surprised not to see you at court Winny, I know how fond you are of Prince John." Vaisey said brightly, enjoying winding the other man up. Guy smirked at Winchester's unhappy expression; it seemed that he too was not fond of Vaisey's habit of using unflattering nicknames nor the suggestion of brown-nosing.

"Yes well, I didn't have time Vaisey, business called me to the north."

"Oh you've been in Nottingham have you? I thought as much, I heard you're good friends with the Sheriff there…" Vaisey smiled greasily before continuing, "I forget his name, I've never spoke to the fellow but I do remember seeing him at court a few years back and he looked crusty then but now… well, he must be a hundred years old!" Vaisey chuckled, there was nothing quite like insulting a friend to get another man's hackles up.

Winchester didn't react the way he wanted though, he'd hoped for affronted but what he got instead was amused; "Well Vaisey, none of us are getting any younger or prettier are we?" He accompanied the barb with a self-satisfied grin. Vaisey gritted his teeth and fought the urge to slap the man.

"Speaking of young and pretty things, you still sniffing round that daughter of his?"

Winchester spluttered in surprise and Vaisey found that absolutely delicious. Guy turned away to hide his revulsion, it was not as if he knew the girl but the thought was still entirely repugnant.

"Oh no Vaisey, I believe she is already spoken for, betrothed to the young Lord of Locksley I believe." _Not that it makes one iota of difference to me… _is what Winchester declined to say, not wishing to reveal his plans or determination to have the girl by whatever means.

Guy turned his head sharply at the mention of Locksley and Vaisey noticed it. They both knew there was a score to be settled there and Vaisey placed his hand upon Guy's forearm gripping tightly to make sure he let nothing slip on the subject, after all, they didn't want to let Winchester know that they had their own fish to fry in Nottingham.

It was then that Willy entered the room to bring his master a message. He was looking much better than he had a few days previously and played the part of the dutiful servant well. Guy had made sure to land his blows where the bruises would not be seen, just as Vaisey had ordered and Willy was careful to avert his eyes from the visitors, not wishing to give Winchester any reason to suspect that Vaisey and his Lieutenant were 'acquainted' with him.

Vaisey was satisfied with the effect their visit would have upon their reluctant spy, there was no use taking such measures to remind a man of his duty if he goes and forgets it all as soon as he is out the door, one has to keep the pressure on to achieve results.

As the visit wore on and more barbs were exchanged, Guy began to tire. As interesting as it was to watch the men verbally spar with each other, Guy could only follow them for so long before his mind drifted off to other things and as much as Vaisey surely wouldn't approve, (wanting his second to remain sharp at all times around one such as Winchester), Guy couldn't help but feel that it was as if he was attending a cock-measuring contest.

* * *

Guy had hoped that in his absence the nobles attending the court of Prince John had found something more interesting to gossip about than himself and Francesca. Alas, it was not to be. He had underestimated the clamour for rumour and speculation, the pleasure idle minds receive in constructing wild theories, the zeal with which many wished to find out whatever they could, believing all they chose to and disregarding all they did not.

The gossiping hordes had been busy the past few days, digging into his life and his past; discussing him as if he were merely some chattel or worthless object to be inspected and judged. It angered him to the extreme. He knew his past was not something to be proud of but he had come so far since then - could they not see that? Was that not worth anything?

He stewed in his anger for hour upon hour and each new outing made it worse. It was bad enough that Vaisey stung him with his jibes at every opportunity but having everybody else look down their noses at him or laughing at him was unbearable.

_All because of her._

He itched to see her again but not at all in the way that people were conjecturing.

Quite the opposite in fact, he was furious with her. This was all her fault, he decided.

He had long since forgotten that he had gone to the stables that evening of his own free will and that nobody had forced him to speak to her or be kind to her. He also failed to consider that gossiping was the main pastime of the nobility at court and that it was inevitable that a young eligible man should become the subject of gossip no matter what he did, be the subject his table manners, his clothes, his family or his love life.

No, once again, it was easier for him to lay the blame with her. He began to think on all that had occurred between them, every interaction and his anger coloured his take on it all. He saw no innocence in her actions now for he chose not to. Either she was trying to ensnare him or she was messing with him. Her apology and defence of him the other night at dinner was merely part of that. The ribbon as well.

These were his thoughts upon leaving with Vaisey to dine in the great hall a few days after his return. He didn't know how but he was determined to confront her and he would not mince words, that much was certain. Upon having decided upon this course of action, he felt better immediately. He knew who he was and what he was doing; he would have his say and have done with it.

That was the plan anyway…


	6. Chapter 6

VI

Guy strode confidently into the banquet hall and if the looks he received from those assembled bothered him, he didn't let it show.

Vaisey wasted no time in getting them settled with some of his cronies at a table next to Francesca and her family, (Guy smirked at this for he knew his master's humour all too well), and shortly after, Lord Cavendish cordially greeted them both. Natalia did likewise, unfazed by Guy's cool demeanour and nudged Francesca sitting by her side, who quietly murmured her greeting and barely looked up.

The usual round of lewd comments from Vaisey and friends began and Guy rolled his eyes. He wondered that Lord Cavendish could tolerate them speaking about his daughter so – he must have been able to hear them for they were hardly being quiet about it, collapsing into fits of laughter after one particularly uncouth quip from Vaisey.

His gaze then alighted on Francesca and once more the world tilted on it's head.

His resentment melted away in a heartbeat.

She looked pale… and tired…

and sad.

She whispered something to her sister and then wearily pulled herself from her seat. Her father barked something at her that Guy didn't quite catch over Vaisey's chatter and then she walked away from the table.

Guy felt terrible.

Was she alright? Had she fallen ill whilst he was away? Was it all of this…?

It became instantly clear to him that he'd been gravely mistaken. This was not her fault. This was not the reaction of someone who had wanted this. As Vaisey continued with his banter and Lord Cavendish did nothing to defend her, Guy began to feel distinctly queasy. How much of this had she already had to endure? Had this been going on the entire time he'd been away?

As he heard a group of ladies at a nearby table laughing like overexcited hens whilst merrily dissecting her life story, he found himself horrified on her behalf but also strangely fascinated and unable to stop himself from listening in.

The first revelation of sorts was that the sisters were only half blood; Lord Cavendish had married twice. Guy had suspected as much, the daughters were so dissimilar in looks, it seemed only logical but he'd never have been so impudent to ask, let alone sit a stone's throw away from the family whilst discussing the matter. He continued to hear snippets of what the ladies were saying, (which was not easy with Vaisey at his side, in full flow, a venerable font of innuendo at his and Francesca's expense), but little by little he pieced together the bare bones of her story, unaware that in doing so, he was satisfying his own urge to listen to gossip despite having condemned others for doing the same.

So half-sisters then. One father, two mothers. Natalia was the happy result of a harmonious marriage to a woman that Cavendish had worshipped. Sadly, her mother died of fever not long after giving birth and Natalia swiftly took her place as the primary object of Cavendish's devotion. As Guy stared at Natalia sitting regally next to her father, there was no doubt in his mind that that was exactly what had happened here.

Cavendish, despite still grieving his first wife, swiftly moved on to his second, in the hopes of producing an heir. It was not to be. Francesca was born to sighs of disappointment and raised to shouts of anger. Her mother had tried to be a model wife but despite all best efforts, could not live up to the memory of her predecessor or Cavendish's unforgiving standards and it all went downhill from there. When she too died of illness, it is said that Cavendish was not terribly upset about it.

It all slotted into place for Guy now. As he watched Francesca return to her seat, pushing her plate aside to the harsh tones of her father's voice and her sister's glare, it all made sense.

Not long after she had taken her seat, a haughty looking woman from a nearby table addressed her loudly: "Lady Francesca, are you not pleased that Sir Guy is returned?"

A few giggles from could be heard from courtiers nearby but then it was as if the entire room went silent, straining to hear her reply. Francesca sighed and slowly raised her eyes to the woman; her weary expression seemed to say it all but good manners forbade her from ignoring the question. "Milady I think that I speak for everyone here when I say that I am pleased that Lord Vaisey and Sir Guy are safely returned from their journey."

It was a good answer and from the exasperated tone of voice, a much-used one Guy suspected. He was now in no doubt that she'd had to endure many such questions over the past few days.

"Oh come, don't be coy my dear, we all know how you must have missed Sir Guy terribly whilst he was away." This was from one of the hens who had just been casually discussing Francesca's past as if she was not sitting within hearing distance.

It was then that Guy saw a slight clench of Francesca's jaw before she turned her gaze to the lady who'd spoken.

"Please milady, I must ask that you not say such things, it leads to incorrect assumptions about my thoughts and feelings." Her voice was quiet but with a hard edge to it that signalled that she would not be cowed into admitting anything she had no wish to.

"Well tell us then, what are your thoughts and feelings about Sir Guy?" The haughty lady demanded with growing impatience, obviously Francesca was not responding to her questions as she had hoped.

Guy was about to protest then, he was getting sick of being talked about as if he wasn't there but the sight of Francesca looking directly at him stopped him from doing so.

"My thoughts and feelings towards Sir Guy are apologetic. He has had to endure the censure of you all despite having done nothing wrong. He spoke to me once that is all. Had I known what would come of it I would've begged him not to. Now if you will excuse me I shall bid you all a good evening for I have nothing more to say on the subject."

As she then left to stern looks and dissatisfied gasps, Guy let out the breath he had been holding. There was much grumbling amongst the collective and he wondered what exactly they had been hoping for; had they really thought there was something between them and expected her to admit to it? Had they wanted to upset her? Was this what they were all complaining about now? Because she hadn't allowed them to push her around? As the grumbling grew louder and Vaisey began to join in, (commenting that 'she was not much of a sport'), Guy found himself repressing a smile. No, she would not let them walk all over her and it was satisfying to observe the gossiping rabble on the sharp end of not getting what they wanted from her.

A moment later, something drew his eyes towards the door and he could see that she had not yet left the room: another group of nobles who were laughing and asking her questions had stopped her before she had the chance. From the posture of her body, the weariness of her expression and the frequent glances in his direction, Guy could see that the conversation was a repeat of the one that had just taken place.

It was then that he recalled how she'd been that evening in the stables and it pained him. He turned his gaze to her family, who were chatting unconcernedly with the other guests at their table, and felt that pain deepen. Nobody came to her defence did they? Nobody was apologising to her were they? They had taken that light from her, reducing her to this weary unhappy creature and for what? A bit of mischief? A change of conversation topic? To relieve boredom? Vaisey would say that he was exaggerating here, that he was reading too much into the situation but he was not just thinking of some gossiping or teasing anymore, he was thinking about her life, her family, her daily routine, the things she had to put up with… He could see that the people around her wore her down, yes; she had her defences, she knew how to put distance between herself and the way others treated her but it did not all leave her unscathed… he knew it… he knew it like nothing else…

_Wait. _

_Are you sure, you are thinking about her now?_

* * *

If overthinking was a competition Guy was sure he would win prizes. His brain was home to a labyrinth of worries, doubts and insecurities and he second-guessed himself on practically everything. Having a master who was never satisfied would do that to a man he reasoned, but he knew that was not the whole story. This was something that went deeper, something that had always been a part of him. His mother had always tried to console him when he was like this, lost in his thoughts, tangled up in his worries… He could just picture her now, eyes twinkling with indulgent affection, pulling him into her arms, placing a small kiss upon his frowning forehead and murmuring endearments. Yes, it had always been him against the world somehow; God knows he had never found it an easy place to live in...

_Could it be that she is like this too?_

He wondered what exactly he was trying to achieve with this line of thought but no sooner had he begun with it, he could not stop and no matter how much he tried to think of other things, his mind clung to it madly, rehashing all that had occurred that evening with Francesca, finding parallels between them…

_Why do you do this? What is it you want with this? _

He wished he had the answers but he honestly couldn't say, all he knew is that those two contrasting images of her, that golden evening in the stables and this grey evening in the banquet hall would not leave him be. He felt unease low in his stomach and didn't know why, he could only recall the sharp edge of the pain he had felt to see her unhappy and it left him deeply confused.

_What is wrong with you? What is it to you, how she is? _

He lay upon his bed, his body aching and tired, wishing only for rest but knew it would not come with his thoughts galloping a mile a minute. He cursed himself, knowing he was only making things worse the more he ruminated. _Had it not been the same in Winchester? You constantly turning things over in your head?_ and now here he was again, moods seesawing wildly from anger to guilt, from indignation to shame, from aversion to… _fascination?_

_You can't help yourself can you? _

_You get to thinking of her and…_

_you can't stop…_

_and deep down you know why…_

_deep inside…_

_Do you think she has the answers? _

_Do you think she knows better than you do?_

_Because she is like you… _

_Because her situation is yours…_


	7. Chapter 7

VII

Guy's first thought upon waking was that he would speak to Francesca. He was still confused as to why her wellbeing had become a concern for him but for whatever reason it had, and so he figured that if he could speak to her and make sure she was alright, that should get his mind back on to other things. As so often happened in such situations, making a decision made him feel better and he found he could go about his day calmly…

…until he saw her, that is.

She was walking towards the stables with a basket in hand, her head down, obviously not wishing to attract any notice, (he supposed she'd had enough of that of late) and he instantly felt as restless as he had the previous night. The sight of her inspired another round of second-guessing himself, the confidence he felt that this would be the best course of action began ebbing away and he worried that approaching her would not be such a good idea after all.

_Do you wish to see her face fall again? She will surely not welcome another conversation with you, not after last time…_

There was also the matter of the gossiping hordes to consider, if they were seen together it would only make matters worse.

_You cannot avoid her forever… she is alone now; it would not take long to ask her how she is…_

He took a deep breath and before he could change his mind, strode over to the stables. He was sick and tired of having his motives and actions questioned by people who had nothing better to do with their time; it was bad enough that Vaisey kept him on a tight rein without every bored noble at court scrutinizing his every move.

_Let the rich idiots talk if they so please - I haven't done anything wrong. Nor shall I…_

As he entered the stables, he stopped abruptly and nearly turned around. The thought struck him that perhaps she would prefer to be alone with the horses and that made him nervous again. Then it was the sound of Joseph's voice drifting over from one of the stalls that kept him rooted to the spot; maybe she wanted to speak with the groom undisturbed.

"You keep spoilin' these horses Lady Francesca an' they'll not be wantin' to go home!" Joseph teased and Francesca laughed heartily. Guy leant back against the wall, listening to her laughter and the sound of horses munching upon whatever treats she had brought them.

"I suppose I am being selfish aren't I? Wanting to keep them here all to myself?" Her voice was so different to how it had been the previous night, so warm and soft and it made Guy want to stay there and listen to her for a while. He felt silly to just stand there and knew it was wrong to listen in on their conversation but he couldn't bring himself to move for if she saw him her voice would alter.

"An' they'll be missin' you when you go, that's for sure!"

"Well Joseph, I would take them all home with me but I don't think father would approve."

"No, an' yer sister wouldn't neither!"

"I'm sorry that she spoke to you like that the other day Joseph, she doesn't mean to forget her manners but father lets her get away with so much you know…"

"It's alright milady, I've been workin' here long enough to have had my fair share of scoldin' from folks, I just don't like seein' you getting a tellin' off that's all."

Guy sighed and rolled his head back until it made contact with the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. _No, I don't like seeing it either Joseph… that's my problem… I don't know why but it is…_

"Don't worry Joseph, there'll be no scolding for us today, father and Natalia are away visiting some lord or other… I err… I said I have a headache…"

Guy could hear the mischievous lilt to her voice and found himself grinning.

"…but do you know, once they were gone I felt better all of a sudden… and well, it's such a lovely day, it would be a shame to waste it don't you think?"

He had to stifle a laugh at this. He wrapped his arms around himself and lowered his head, listening to them laughing and fought with the urge to go to them.

"How is my favourite horse today?"

"He's a happy one he is and t'is no wonder what wi' how you and Sir Guy spoil 'im!"

Guy froze at the mention of his name. He felt _very_ uncomfortable being there, even more than he already had been. He knew he should go but he couldn't; the fascination at what she might say about him was too hard to resist.

"You don't think that Sir Guy minds me spoiling him do you Joseph?"

Guy thought back to his uncharitable thoughts about her on the way to Winchester and felt a wave of shame wash over him, it was clear to him now that she meant nothing by the ribbon or the treats, she only wished to fuss over an animal she was fond of.

"No milady, he takes very good care of him, I don't think he'd be so mean as to deny him a bit o' spoilin'"

"I am glad that you say that, I was worried… I have given him enough reason to be angry with me of late."

"Now then milady, let's 'ave none of that, you didn't do anything wrong, we both know that."

"Yes but it is still embarrassing for him, that people think that he would have anything to do with the likes of me…"

Guy squirmed. It _had_ been embarrassing for him and he'd reacted in the worst possible way, very nearly letting his temper get the better of him. He dreaded to think now what he might have said to her had he gotten around to it.

"What do you mean the likes of you? You are a lady an' a very fine one too, an' I don't think there's anythin' embarrassin' about 'avin somethin' to do wi' you, I wonder that they're not queueing up…"

"Joseph!"

If there was such a thing as being able to hear a blush, Guy thought it must be happening.

"Don't you Joseph me! I knows a fine lady when I sees one, there's many a lady 'ere who thinks she's fine but you very much are, an' I won't hear anyone who says any different."

"Joseph…"

Her voice was soft and filled with affection. Guy knew that she mustn't receive many compliments and so was not practised in dealing with them, still, he imagined her embarrassment to be shyly sweet.

"Thank you Joseph, I only wish many here at court were as good and kind as yourself and then I should enjoy the rest of this place and not just the stables."

Now it was Joseph's turn to receive a compliment and Guy could tell that from the sound of him shuffling about that just as with Francesca he didn't quite know how to deal with it. A brief silence followed before the groom finally found his voice again, "So yer 'avin a day off from your family eh?"

"Yes Joseph, would it be terrible to admit that it is heavenly?"

Guy found himself stifling a laugh again, her voice was dripping with mischief and he dearly wished he could see her face.

"Aye milady, I can believe it, I knows how it is wi' families, I remember when I was your age, I couldn't wait to get out into the world and find my own way."

"Yes, I suppose that's it Joseph, I long to find my own way but every time I am being myself I seem to displease them."

There was a brief pause as the room filled with the sighs of all present. It was the age old conundrum wasn't it? How to be yourself and yet good enough for others...

"Lots of folk think that they know best how everythin' should be but don't you fret milady soon enough you'll have yer own family an' if you love them and care for them as well you do these horses then you'll have nothin' to worry about."

"Do you really think so Joseph?"

Her voice made the hairs on the back of Guy's neck stand up. Wavering with emotion and thick with tears.

He could hardly stand it.

_What is wrong? Does she doubt that she will find someone?_

It was true that in the shadow of her sister it would never be easy to find a suitor but surely someone would someday take notice? After all, he had begun to take notice hadn't he? Ever since that night in the stables, that first glimpse of what she could be when allowed to shine, he had been finding it difficult _not_ to take notice.

"Aye I do think so, an' I'll tell yer somethin' else, I'll be puttin' in a good word for yer with The Man upstairs, it worked a treat for my girls an' they is happily married with littl'uns, both of them."

Guy felt his lips quirk at this warm gesture from the stable groom and it was then he realised it would be better to let her be. He still couldn't really say why he'd longed to speak to her, he had told himself it was to make sure that she was alright and yet he hadn't thought so far as to what he would've done with that information had he received it. He would not have been able to listen to her voice on the edge of breaking and offer warm reassurance as Joseph just had nor would he have been so kind as to say a prayer for her future happiness.

_She will be alright. She has a place to go when it all becomes too much… to find consolation… for all that is… difficult… and painful… in her life… _

_She will be alright._


	8. Chapter 8

VIII

The longer Prince John kept them waiting, the more volatile Vaisey became.

Needless to say, this was not a good thing for Guy. He could understand Vaisey's anger, if there was one thing he knew, it was how it felt to be unable to vent one's anger at a superior but it was Vaisey's unpredictability that got to him above all - the not knowing which version of his master he was going to be confronted with at any given moment. Guy had learnt that there was not much one could do to deal with this other than take each mood swing as it comes, preferably with mouth shut.

Another tactic that Guy liked to employ was keeping himself busy; it kept Vaisey happy to a certain degree and had the added bonus of keeping him out of the other man's way. The problem was that court was not a place with many opportunities to keep a man such as Guy busy; his normal duties were mostly suspended here and he often found himself feeling lost. Were he more of a social butterfly perhaps he would find more to divert him but no, he was a fish out of water here, caught between the difficulties that accompanied attending his impatient master and the boredom that came with mingling in the grand halls of court.

Funnily enough, he soon caught on that the best place to escape to was the stables. Well, he had known it all along actually but had not wanted to admit it because a certain lady had had the same idea.

He'd been retreating to the stables as long as he could remember. As a child, he'd been shy and introverted, (still was, but was better at hiding it now), often seeking places to be alone with his thoughts and the stables had always been one of his favourites. Much later, when he could finally afford his own steed, unlike many he had not purchased a fine animal for show but because he loved horses. He also knew that most nobles liked to leave the work involved in caring for their animals to servants but he preferred to take care of it himself. When anybody asked him about this, he told them that it was only sensible to deal with something so important himself - he relied upon his horse completely and should something be amiss, it could result in a fall or worse. What he did not mention is that he actually enjoyed it; looking after (and of course riding) horses was one of the very few things that brought him peace, something that wasn't tainted by Vaisey. The fact that it also gave him a place to retreat to was a pleasant bonus.

Except that lately it hadn't been. He'd taken to skulking about, tending to his horse only at times when he was sure that Francesca wasn't there and when he'd finally summoned up the courage to talk to her, (so that he could once more go about his day normally), he'd found that he couldn't do it, that there were others better equipped to do the job whilst he skulked in the shadows.

_Look at you tiptoeing around, scared off by a little mouse…_

At some point, he decided that he needed to grow a pair and get on with his life. He was spending far too much time in his head and it was turning him soft, just as Vaisey always said it would. He would stop deliberating his every move and do what he wanted to, when he wanted to...

_and if I want to avoid my employer by tending to my horse then I will, whether the stables are host to a certain visitor or not…_

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of Vaisey yelling his name from nearby. As per usual, when he had the intention to do something for himself, his master stalked into the room and his plans went out the window.

"Ah! There you are Gisborne! Come along now! We are invited to a… what did Cavendish say it was again…? Ah, yes! A musical soiree! That was it!"

Guy sighed; he supposed he should at least be grateful that Vaisey was in a good mood although he couldn't for the life of him think why he was suddenly so cheerful, he had never thus far shown anything approximating enthusiasm at the prospect of an evening of musical entertainment.

"Do you need time to do your hair Gizzy? Or put on a bit of slap before we go? You could at least wear a nicer jacket…"

Guy bit back a scowl. _I am beginning to prefer his bad moods…_

* * *

Guy had not had the pleasure of attending many concerts. His parents had enjoyed music but Vaisey, well, his idea of fun was something else entirely.

He knew that there must be some other motive for this outing, Vaisey was erratic in his moods but not in his tastes. As they arrived at their seats, Guy couldn't help but think that Lord Cavendish must have something to do with it for Vaisey was most eager to talk to him, not even sparing a moment to direct some lewd comment concerning Francesca in his direction.

_What is it old man? It is not like you to miss an opportunity to bait me… _

He had little time to think on this before the concert began. It was then that he caught a glimpse of Vaisey's favourite target of mockery…

His breath hitched.

She was sitting at a nearby table with Natalia and a couple Guy had never met before, listening to the music and her face… he could not bring his eyes from her. She seemed entranced, enraptured, transported to another place and Guy wished he knew where, for it must be wonderful…

"Gisborne! Have you gone deaf? I just asked you a question!" Vaisey's impatient tones brought him swiftly back down to earth. There were a few people shushing but Vaisey couldn't care less and continued cursing. Guy coughed quietly and brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose before turning his attention to the bad tempered man who demanded it.

"Oh Gisborne…" Vaisey's voice had softened to an amused whisper and his expression to one of knowing smugness, "…have I caught you looking at your favourite leper again?"

Guy didn't let the question bother him, he merely studied the couple at Francesca's table and asked quietly, "Who is that sitting with Cavendish's daughters?"

"Some cousin or other, visiting from Devon with her husband…" Vaisey replied with a bored expression but not two seconds later the glint of amusement in his eyes had returned, "Tsk Gisborne, are you so desperate that you're taking an interest in married women now? Are things going _that_ badly with the ugly one?"

The insult hit like a slap.

_How can you possibly find her…?_

Guy looked at Vaisey as if he was mad. Vaisey was delighted. Fortunately, Lord Cavendish hadn't heard, although, he'd barely bat an eyelid the last time Vaisey had been joking lewdly at her expense so who knew? At any rate, he said nothing about it and began chatting to Vaisey on an unrelated subject and so Vaisey did not catch the look of disgust on Guy's face, thus missing the opportunity to enjoy that particular offended look that he so enjoyed eliciting from his lieutenant. Guy swallowed his anger, he knew that letting any of Vaisey's comments bother him was futile and it was not as if defending her would achieve anything.

He brought his gaze back to her and his breath caught in his throat once more. She had closed her eyes now; visibly moved by the music, soaking it in, oblivious to the world around her and he felt in every part of him that there was nothing ugly about her.

_Nor plain…_

His mind and body were not on the same page. He could finally admit this to himself. It had been this way for quite some time now and yet he had not wanted to accept it. At first, it had been easy to tell himself that she was dull and ordinary, to let himself be dazzled by the beauty of her sister, to think her not worth his notice.

His body however, had other ideas. Be it his stomach twisting in her presence or his muscles stiffening, his frowns softening or his breath catching, his eyes searching for her one minute to look away the next…

He had a tight rein on himself and was good at hiding his emotions, had he not been, he would never have been able to serve Vaisey but that did not mean that he was unaware of what he felt or how his body reacted. No, he had most definitely registered the effect she had upon him; he just hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. It was only in moments like this, when she was nearby, that his body seemed to take over and the confusion he felt when it came to her seemed to increase tenfold. It was something akin to a dam breaking; where the thoughts he took such pains to bury deep down inside washed over him, making him feel intensely uncomfortable.

He sensed somebody was watching him and it was a wake up call to get over himself. He looked at the cousin sitting beside Francesca and caught her staring at him. He was surprised to see her smile and nod in silent greeting. He frowned, they had not yet been introduced to one another but perhaps Cavendish or one of the daughters had mentioned his name at some point, and so he nodded to acknowledge her. She then turned her attention to Natalia who was showing her something and it gave Guy the opportunity to get a better look at her. Guy would never have guessed that the women were related; the difference between them was striking. Where Natalia was fair beauty; her cousin was dark elegance, where Natalia was tall and slim with pale blue eyes, her cousin was small, of fuller figure with brown eyes. As custom dictated for married women, she had covered her hair but Guy could tell from her eyebrows that her hair was as dark as her eyes. Where Natalia was in full bloom and dressed to impress, her cousin was a little older with the sort of satisfied countenance that came with the married state. Her features were soft, not as sharp as Natalia's which made her look the kinder and more approachable of the two.

And then there was Francesca…

who was… just…

_luminous._

He could still not fully understand what she did to him. He knew what it was to feel attraction but _this_ was something he had never experienced before. Something that had crept up on him, enveloping him in a bear hug from which he could not extract himself. Something that left him constantly at odds with himself. Something that was not based on anything that he could put his finger on or explain to anyone. Something that had little to do with hair or eyes or any other physical attribute by which he had formerly based attraction upon.

She just _had_ him somehow… drew him to her… made him unable or unwilling to compare her to any other for there was no other like her...

_Good lord Gisborne, it has finally happened; you have gone completely soft in the head haven't you?_

He finally forced his eyes from her to turn his attention to Vaisey who was sitting close to Cavendish and listening intently. Guy wondered what exactly Cavendish could have to say that could be so interesting to his employer. Whatever it was, it must be of use to him and the countless plots he had in that brain of his, otherwise the old man wouldn't have his ears open and his mouth shut.

As Vaisey's eyes then met his, he received a small nod that signalled he would later be informed of the details of all that had been discussed.

Guy was not sure if that was a good thing.

* * *

Lady Lydia Belmont was eager to greet the two men sitting with her uncle; "Lord Vaisey, Sir Guy of Gisborne, I am pleased to meet you, my uncle has spoken highly of you both, as have my cousins."

Guy was sceptical._ You are? They have? _He studied her face for any hint of sarcasm and was surprised to find none. _Ah well give it time, my lord has not opened his mouth yet…_

"Yes well, we are delighted are we not Gisborne?" Vaisey accompanied this remark with an elbow to his Lieutenant's side and a fake smile. Guy nodded politely whilst expertly concealing the look of weary impatience that threatened to take over his features.

"Lord Vaisey, it was a most pleasant surprise to see my niece and her lord here I can assure you." Lord Cavendish said warmly.

"The pleasure is all ours uncle, I have been nagging my dear husband Thomas for I don't know how long to come and visit you all here at court and now we've finally made it." Lady Lydia's broad smile spoke volumes of her happiness to be there.

"But how was your journey dear cousin? It is a long way from Devon; did you not find it tiresome?" Natalia asked sympathetically.

"Yes indeed, we shall have to stay a while to get over it and give our horses time to forgive us!" Sir Belmont, a jolly looking older man chuckled loudly at his own joke. Guy groaned at the mention of horses and his eyes flitted instantly to Vaisey who was now smiling evilly.

_Wait for it…_

"Dearest Lydia and Thomas how did you like the concert?"

Guy nearly fell over at the sound of Francesca's voice.

The relief he felt was immense. He'd heard nothing but jokes to the theme of 'showing the ladies his beast' from Vaisey all week and had been cringing in expectation of yet another round of the usual godawful horse banter, only to be spared at the last minute.

As Vaisey closed his mouth and directed a stormy look at the lady who had just interrupted him, it was all Guy could do not to laugh. Or hug her. He didn't even hear what the cousin had to say in reply, he was too busy basking in an all too brief moment of happiness caused by the rare event of somebody having shut Vaisey up. As he then chanced a look at her whilst she was listening to her cousin, he was amazed to see her glance briefly in his direction with a wry smile upon her lips. Perhaps he was reading too much into it but somehow he knew it was for him. _That_ had him biting his bottom lip to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. That and the sour look on Vaisey's face.

_What did I do to deserve you in my corner? If you had known my thoughts on you not so long ago, you would not have been so willing to come to my defence time and again… _

As she then brought her eyes to his once more something told him that perhaps she would have, she was well practised in forgiving others their weaknesses.

_You are too good mouse, a shame, for your goodness is wasted here…_


	9. Chapter 9

IX

Everybody said that Lord Cavendish was keen to get his eldest daughter married.

It was concluded that he must be for Natalia was twenty one years old - certainly of a marrying age and why else bring her to the court of Prince John if not to find a suitor?

It had not escaped anyone's notice that this task was proving more difficult than imagined. The problem was not lack of interest; Natalia was never short of admirers, no, it seemed that the difficulty lay in finding somebody suitable.

Many assumed that the reason she was still unmarried was that the sheer amount of interest in her made making a decision difficult and she was merely taking time to consider her options before making her choice. What they didn't know was that the reason she remained single was not in fact indecision on her part but actually because she was very decided indeed – decided _against_ the men who were trying to court her for she considered none of them good enough.

Sir Guy of Gisborne may have been upset to find himself spurned but in this respect he was in excellent company. Time and again, men from all walks of life, some hailing from the wealthiest and most respected families of England, tried to win her heart but she would not have them. Sometimes a handsome face or flattering words would intrigue her, (particularly if accompanied by riches and titles) but without exception, she turned them down flat.

There was always something wanting. Something not quite right. Something to pick at or complain about. To deride or ridicule. "It just won't do father…" was the standard lament and Francesca found herself cringing every time she heard her sister say it.

Her father was of no help whatsoever. He took his eldest daughter's word as gospel. Always had. If she said it wouldn't do then it wouldn't. He was secretly of the opinion that there was nobody good enough for her. She was his little girl. His everything. Her happiness mattered to him above all. If he was honest with himself, he was relieved that nobody was up to standard for he was reluctant to part with her. If he could, he would never give her up and would have her at his side for all his remaining days. It was bitter for him to think that at some point he was going to end up giving his dearest girl away only to be left stuck with a daughter he couldn't care less about and would be all too happy to get rid of to anybody who would take her off his hands. When in particularly foul temper, he even told Francesca this. She always took such hurtful comments with customary quiet patience.

Despite these feelings, Lord Cavendish knew that he could not keep her forever and so did what a dutiful father with an eligible daughter should do; he introduced her to all the right people and hoped she would make a good match. What he didn't tell anybody was that he secretly rejoiced at each rejection and agreed with every reason his daughter gave, pandering to her vanity and sense of superiority.

Francesca was deeply embarrassed by all this but kept her feelings to herself. She would never understand her sister but could at least be grateful that as long as the focus was upon Natalia, she would be left alone.

* * *

"Is Sussex really worth all this?"

Guy was thinking aloud - a dangerous occupation with a master like Vaisey.

It wasn't that he didn't understand what they were trying to achieve, it was just that sometimes he wondered at the price that had to be paid. He was thinking in particular of Willy, (whose situation, in some respects, mirrored his own) and couldn't help but feel that in that poor wretch's case the price could turn out to be high indeed.

"Are you simple Gisborne?" Vaisey asked in an exasperated tone.

"No my lord, but as you know I am not well travelled, would Sussex really be such an advantage?" Guy thought he would try honesty for a change. The dark look he received from Vaisey made him feel that he probably shouldn't have.

"Of course it would be! It is of vital strategic importance!" Vaisey shouted as if that explained everything.

Guy suppressed a smirk._ Come on now, admit it old man, the main reason you want it is because Winchester wants it._

"Have you ever been there?"

"No but…"

"You've never been there!?"

"That is not the point Gisborne! I don't have to go somewhere to know…"

"Not even once?"

"Shut up Gisborne!" Vaisey's tone signalled that he was on the brink of lashing out and so Guy did the smart thing and obliged. Vaisey took a breath before continuing in strained and impatient tones, "Do I have to remind you why we are here? Or where we have been the past few years?"

"No my lord." Guy bowed his head like a scolded child.

"You do remember what it was like in the doldrums yes?"

Guy nodded. He certainly did. Vaisey had lands on the welsh border, to describe the location as 'in the doldrums' was putting it mildly, to Guy it might as well have been the on the moon. Certainly not 'of vital strategic importance'. Unless one considered sheep strategically important, that is.

"Am I correct in gathering you don't want to go back there?"

Guy nodded emphatically.

"You understand me then?" Vaisey reached out to cup Guy's cheek, raising the younger man's head up so that his eyes met his own. Guy nodded again, looking to reassure his master before diverting his gaze to the floor in submission.

"Good." Vaisey removed his hand but was still standing too close for comfort as he then explained, "I've got Cavendish on side now; he's got no love for Winchester either, seems the old dog was keen to get better acquainted with his daughter…"

Guy's stomach clenched, was there no woman safe from the old letch?

"So, if we just keep poking around, we're bound to find something on him." Vaisey smiled evilly whilst absentmindedly picking loose threads off his lieutenant's shoulder. The younger man pretended not to notice. "Speaking of which, have we heard from our favourite manservant of late?"

"No my lord but it hasn't been long since our last visit, perhaps we should give him a while."

_Please?_

"Oh alright Gisborne, we'll give him another week or so but if he comes up with nothing again, you and your talents are going to be the least of his worries."

* * *

The arrival of Lady Lydia had improved Francesca considerably. She was all smiles in her cousin's company and the effect was mesmerizing. Guy could see straight away how fond Lydia and her husband were of the youngest cousin and it was incredible to see how Francesca blossomed when treated with such kindness and affection.

An added bonus was that Lord Cavendish seemed to curb his temper more in the couple's presence and so Francesca was given a reprieve from his darker moods and scolding words.

Vaisey and Cavendish also continued with their chats giving Guy ample opportunity to observe and enjoy the lighter atmosphere that surrounded the rest of the Cavendish family.

Most of the time anyway. It was on the third day after their arrival that storm clouds began to appear once more.

"I have heard dear cousins that there is to be a ball next week?" Lydia smiled and looked at her youngest cousin in particular. Francesca did not return the smile and instead looked to the floor.

Natalia on the other hand grinned and chattered away happily, "Oh yes cousin, it will give me the chance to wear my new gown! And I have already had many offers to dance!"

Lydia smiled politely at this information from her eldest cousin but what she actually wanted to know was "What about you Francesca? Have you had offers?"

Francesca went bright red and wished the ground would swallow her up. She continued to look away. Guy felt himself squirming for her.

"Fran? Offers? You're joking aren't you?" Natalia looked incredulously at her cousin, "What would anybody be wanting with her?"

Lydia fired her eldest cousin an angry look before moving closer to Francesca. She took both of her hands in hers and was about to speak but Francesca beat her to it, "It is alright cousin; do not trouble yourself, I would probably be too nervous to dance anyway." 

"Well you have an offer from me dear cousin; I shall certainly dance with you if you will have me?" Sir Thomas asked cheerfully.

Francesca was dumbstruck. Natalia was peeved to be overlooked for once. Lydia was delighted.

"Oh Francesca! What say you? Is that not a kind offer? And I am sure others would certainly not have anything against asking you once they see you dancing!"

Guy could see that Francesca was overwhelmed by these attentions, no matter how kind they were, and wished he could do something to help her.

"Yes my dear, and who knows what other offers it might lead to eh?" Lord Thomas chuckled and nudged Francesca affectionately. She went an even darker shade of red, her face a picture of unease. Guy groaned inwardly, he knew the compliment was well meant but it had been clumsily done.

"Other offers? You seriously think that anybody would…?" Natalia burst out laughing and could barely contain herself, as if it was the funniest joke she had heard in ages, "Father have you heard this? It is really too much!"

She went on to loudly relate the whole exchange to Lord Cavendish much to Francesca's mortification. Lord Cavendish had been standing nearby deep in conversation with Vaisey and some of his cronies, but was happy to share in his eldest daughter's amusement. Guy felt his dislike of Natalia Cavendish soaring to new heights and quelled an urge to slap the silly smile off her face.

Lydia was not the slightest bit amused either, "Natalia shame on you! How can you be so unfeeling to your sister?"

"You must forgive me cousin but I cannot help but find what Sir Thomas said amusing for if there is any chance of Fran finding a suitor then it shall most certainly be someone of my father's choosing, most probably some old letch or other."

Lydia was furious. "Natalia! How can you say something so wicked?"

"Because it is the truth."

Francesca's voice was quiet but it cut through all else. There was a stunned silence and all eyes turned to the girl. She lifted her head slowly to bring her calm eyes up to meet the surprised ones of her cousin. "Dear cousin I know you are upset on my behalf but I assure you that you needn't be. I have known for a long time now that if I should ever marry, the match will have been arranged by my father."

Guy was transfixed. She had amazed him a number of times with her self-control but never more so than in this moment.

_You won't allow yourself to hope will you mouse?_

Hope was for the Natalias of this world, people who had suitors lining up to court them and fathers who loved and cherished them enough to respect their choices. Not many women had the luxury to marry for love but if Natalia could locate her heart one of these days, the chances were good that she would marry for love but Francesca? She knew better than to think of it.

"You sell yourself short..." Lydia protested but Francesca remained unmoved,

"It is not so terrible really, for most ladies it is this way…" she spoke slowly and her eyes were fixed upon nothing in particular, she paused for a moment to arrange her thoughts and give her cousin a small reassuring smile, "and it is usual for the man to be older I think?" She tilted her head briefly as if contemplating her own question, although Guy wasn't sure that she was really asking anybody or if she was just thinking aloud now. Then she was silent for a few moments before finally murmuring, "I only hope that he will be kind to me."

Guy's gaze drifted to Lord Cavendish, who was busy laughing at something Vaisey said, and then without a word, he left.

He couldn't bear it. He could hear them wondering loudly at his abrupt departure but couldn't care less. He could listen to this no longer. It distressed him beyond measure to think that her fate lay in the hands of a man who could not only _not_ see that she was all that was good and worthy, kind and patient, forgiving and forbearing but would most likely parcel her off like some unwanted piece of furniture to some old crone friend of his who was just as idiotic as he was.

_Or if she was really unlucky to somebody like Vaisey. _

_Oh God._

And here she was, talking about it calmly. Trying to set others at ease.

It was too much.

_She knows. She always knew._

He remembered Joseph trying to reassure her; "…_don't you fret milady soon enough you'll have yer own family an' if you love them and care for them as well you do these horses then you'll have nothin' to worry about." _

"_Do you really think so Joseph?"_

Her voice at that moment. God he would never forget it.

Now he knew why. Well actually, he had always known but it was yet another thing he'd put away inside some dark corner of his mind because he hadn't wanted to contemplate it.

_She had known how it would be. With the way her father treats her..._

Still, the future was not yet written and there were some who dared to hope and pray...

"…_I'll be puttin' in a good word for yer with The Man upstairs, it worked a treat for my girls an' they is happily married with littl'uns, both of them."_

Guy was not one of them however. He'd had nothing to say to the Lord since his parents died but as the sound of her voice breaking echoed through his mind, he thought that perhaps he might…

_for her…_

No sooner had he thought of it, he changed his mind; God would surely not listen to one such as him.

_Perhaps he'll listen to Joseph. I hope so for this world is too cruel for one such as her._


	10. Chapter 10

X

Francesca Cavendish looked on aghast as Sir Guy of Gisborne walked away.

The initial shock was quickly replaced with mortification. Due to the dynamics within her family, she was so used to being at fault that her first thought in any situation was that she was to blame and so it was in this case - why else would he have left so abruptly whilst she'd been speaking? She felt tears welling in her eyes and frantically blinked to stop them from falling whilst swallowing hard to remedy the lump painfully lodged in her throat.

Luckily, her relatives were too busy watching the retreating man to notice her distress. As they then began conjecturing what could've caused him to leave, she was silently questioning all that she had said and done in an attempt to figure out how she'd offended him.

Lydia remarked that she had seen nothing in his behaviour the past few days to signal that he was distressed and Francesca found herself agreeing with her. Indeed, although he'd been as introverted as ever, his demeanour giving little away other than his usual stern reserve, he had not seemed angry or upset. On the contrary, Francesca thought back to the look he had given her the other evening after the concert as she'd interrupted Vaisey, and a wave of warmth swept through her - he had seemed so relieved, so grateful, so… happy… or as happy as she had ever seen him in the short time that she'd known him…

_But now…_

She felt the tears threatening to fall again and for a few moments was terrified that she would not be able to stop them. Above all, she avoided her cousin's eyes for although she knew that her father and sister were unperceptive, (or perhaps uncaring was the accurate term), Lydia was a different story. Francesca knew from experience that one concerned glance from that lady would most probably be her undoing and so took utmost pains to exert herself. Fortunately, exerting herself was something she was good at and so as she brought her eyes to meet her cousin's, her expression gave nothing away other than the confusion that one naturally felt in such situations.

Natalia, not one to hold back when it came to voicing her opinion, declared that she found Guy rude, ill-tempered and surly. It was a declaration that nobody could dispute for what he had just done pretty much confirmed that his manners were not what they should be and as for the other two charges against him, well, he was renowned for those.

Vaisey started laughing, amused no end by Natalia's pouting expression, "Well missy, you must forgive my lieutenant, he has quite the temper you see and I can only imagine that all this talk of balls and 'offers' doesn't sit all that well with him, especially since you sent him packing."

Natalia was caught off guard by this comment and her jaw dropped open, she was unused to anybody contradicting her.

"Now then Vaisey…" Lord Cavendish raised his voice in warning, unhappy that anyone should say anything about his eldest. Vaisey was unimpressed; it seemed absurd to him, he'd said all kinds of things about the youngest daughter and Cavendish had not so much as raised an eyebrow.

Francesca wondered if Vaisey had a point. It couldn't be easy for Guy to be around Natalia, considering her rejection of him, and when one added to that the gossip that had been circulating about Guy and herself, she could well understand that it had maybe gotten too much for him. Perhaps something had also happened between them in the interim, something she had not been privy to, that had caused him to fly off the handle, she knew how cruel Natalia could be and who knows what fresh insult had been added to injury. When one looked at it from this perspective, she couldn't blame him if he was heartily sick of both sisters.

_But why now? _

Perhaps Vaisey was also right in thinking that the topic of conversation had angered Guy, after all, who wants to hear about 'offers' when their own advances have been spurned? The thing is though, they hadn't been referring to Natalia's offers as he'd stormed off, they had been talking about _hers_ (or lack of them, that is). Also this wasn't the first time that Natalia had boasted about receiving offers (to dance or otherwise) in his presence – Natalia was not somebody who had much of a clue when it came to behaving with tact or humility, she was far too vain for that and had never given him a second thought whilst talking about her numerous suitors in the past.

_So, why did he choose this moment to leave? He has been angry with her, he has been upset by her but he has never up until now walked away…_

It was then that the thought occurred to her that perhaps he'd been worried that her cousin or Sir Thomas might turn their attention to him as a potential dancing partner for _her, _after all, it had been her meagre prospects they'd spoken of just before he left...

_That must be it… yes… I am sure that it is._

_I can understand him, the subject had been bad enough for me to bear and yet it would have been even worse for him had they suggested that he dance with me... _

_But can he not see that I would never dream of imposing on him like that? That I cannot help it if my relatives pity me? _

The next moment her stomach lurched abruptly.

_What if he thinks I put them up to it? After all that has happened as well… oh… how he must detest me…_

She choked back a sob and crossed her arms tightly in front of her body whilst turning away from her family.

Luckily, at that moment Vaisey's theory took root amongst the others, sparking an indignant response from Natalia, the usual leap to Natalia's defence from her father and unconcerned amusement from Vaisey, which all served to deflect attention from Francesca, giving her time to recover.

Unluckily, Lydia had already caught a glimpse of her cousin's distress and was curious to know what was really going on.

* * *

"Dearest Fran, how about a walk to the stables? I know how fond you are of horses and Natalia mentioned that you enjoy spending time there."

That is not all Natalia had mentioned but Lydia did not wish to make her intentions obvious. In this, she failed miserably for Francesca knew straight away what she was doing. The young girl turned sharply and gave her cousin a sceptical look. Lydia, to her credit, was smart enough to know that the game was up and so wasted no more time in pretending:

"Do you love him?"

Francesca's eyes went as wide as saucers. "I hardly know him!"

"That's not a no."

"Lydia please! I am in no doubt that Natalia has filled you in on all the sordid details but you should know that there is nothing to it, it is all just rumours."

"Is it?" Lydia was not so sure about that, the depth of her cousin's emotions made her think otherwise.

"He was kind to me and…." Francesca's voice was tight and her face spoke volumes of her agitation, "now look at this mess…" Her hands flailed helplessly before she shakily brought one up to rub at her forehead and smooth her hair out of her eyes. She remained motionless a moment before her shoulders slumped and she sighed audibly, "can we not just leave him alone?"

Francesca was certain that if there was one kindness she could do for him then it was this. Now all that remained was to convince everybody else.

Lydia smiled weakly at her cousin and added a sigh of her own before replying, "If that is what you wish cousin, then I shall."

Francesca nodded, satisfied with the outcome of the conversation but did not catch the faint smile on her cousin's face and so had no hint of the plan that had formed in her cousin's mind. Lydia loved her youngest cousin and would always do as she wished but that didn't mean that she wouldn't try to help her in any way she could, after all, she had promised to leave him alone, but she hadn't said anything about _her_ had she?

* * *

"Well, what have we here?"

His voice made Francesca squirm. The way he was looking at her even more so. She smiled weakly but knew she must have the look of a deer who is cornered by a predator.

And a predator he was, no doubt about that.

She had been making her way across the courtyard when he noticed her, still wiping off the paint with which her cousin had decided to decorate her face that morning.

"We must make you beautiful for the ball dearest Fran, come, let us have a look at what suits you before the big day arrives" Lydia had exclaimed excitedly before pouncing upon the girl with all manner of creams, lotions and powders to put on one's face and in one's hair. Francesca had been a reluctant recipient of these attentions, unused to having somebody fuss over her in this way but she'd patiently sat through it, trying her best to disguise her unease, not wishing to displease her well-meaning cousin.

As soon as she had left the room however, she'd begun to wipe it all off. She understood what it was her cousin was trying to do but was not keen on the changes and doubted she was worth the effort.

_You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear cousin._

She had just been thinking that she was glad there was nobody around to see her like this, most courtiers having gone to the hunt in the Prince's honour, (her family included), when she was stopped in her tracks by the sight of Prince John himself. As he and his guards then approached her, she found it difficult to breathe. His cold eyes giving her the once over whilst he asked "Well, what have we here?" didn't help with that.

She was sure that it was an honour to be noticed by him but she couldn't for the life of her feel that way for he put the fear of God into her. Everything about him gave her the chills: the way that he seductively purred his words, the air of detached amusement he seemed to wear upon him like a cloak, the haughty curl of his lips, the cool self-assured way that he moved, even the foppish outfits he wore that didn't fool Francesca for one second. Worst of all though was that predatory gaze that made her feel like a mouse about to be devoured by a snake.

The irony of the situation was not lost on her: she, who hated hunting and had made excuses not to attend the hunt now found herself cornered by a man who was, when it came to women, the epitome of a hunter stalking it's prey, who just happened not to be in attendance at a hunt held in his honour.

The only thought that brought her any comfort was that she was not pretty enough to be of interest to him and certainly not tempting enough to be in any real danger.

She didn't know it but in this assumption she was dead wrong.

After she got over her initial shock, she politely murmured a "Good morning your Highness," whilst bowing into a curtsey. She heard a chuckle from him and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The next thing she knew he was standing close to her, too close and she felt two fingers underneath her jaw pushing her head up. His eyes glittered as he inspected her face and and as he began to smile, his thumb caressing her jawline, she suddenly felt ill. She desperately tried to stop herself from trembling, little knowing that he'd noticed it and was not in the least bit angry, on the contrary, it turned him on. He took his time appraising her as if she were some chattel on offer at market, taking in her young features, her hazel eyes, her petite nose, her shy lips, her soft skin that smelt of something sweet, her brown hair pulled into a coquettish bun at the nape of her slender neck, his hand slowly slid down to it, unable to resist such an offering and she exerted every inch of her self-control to stop herself from squirming.

He noticed that she was painted but not too much, just enough to enhance what she had, to bring out the green in those brown hazel eyes and accentuate her lashes. There was a small hint of pink upon her cheeks emphasizing her high cheekbones and making her look as if she were shyly blushing. Her small lips would normally go unnoticed were it not for the subtle shimmer upon them that made him long to run his tongue over them before devouring her mouth. His fingers caressed the delicate skin of her throat and he sighed as she swallowed nervously.

He could gather from her reaction to him that she had never been touched this way before and it thrilled him. Innocence had always been an attraction for him: he liked his mistresses young and virginal and he figured that this could only be the way with this skittish creature before him. That she was obviously scared of him didn't concern him, far from it, he'd always found it made the seduction all the sweeter.

"And a very good morning to you my lady." He grinned broadly as he purred out his greeting, fixing her firmly to the spot with his intense stare, "Come, do not be shy, tell me, do you have a name sweet creature?"

Francesca opened her mouth to answer and her breath came out shakily, she pursed her lips to speak but then a voice from somewhere behind her spared her the effort:

"Your Highness, may I present to you Lady Francesca Cavendish."


	11. Chapter 11

XI

She instantly knew who it was.

She would know that voice anywhere.

Every inch of her body sighed in relief and an intense giddiness overcame her.

_OH, THANK GOD! _

_Thank you Jesus! _

_Thank you Father, Son and Holy Ghost! _

_Thank you guardian angel, lucky charm, spirit of mercy, goddess of poor defenceless females and whoever else I owe on this one…_

_Most of all, thank you Sir Guy of Gisborne! _

_(You excellent, wonderful, ridiculously handsome and fortuitously punctual man!)_

As happy as Francesca was at this interruption, Prince John wasn't pleased at all. He reluctantly removed his hand from her and fixed the interloper with an exasperated stare. "Ah Gisborne," he spat, his voice tight with displeasure, "What are you doing here?"

Francesca took a deep breath and turned to face Guy, trying as best she could to hide her elation. Guy chanced to look at her to check she was alright and was relieved to find that she was; her face was flushed, her head bowed but he caught the small smile that she was fighting to repress and it pleased him greatly to see that she welcomed his interruption.

"I was on my way to the stables your Highness; I have errands to run for Lord Vaisey." He replied in his usual curt manner, Prince John's ire did not give him cause for concern; he was used to the disapproval of his superiors.

"Ah yes, Vaisey... where is he today?" Prince John narrowed his eyes, silently cursing the man for not being present to keep his guard dog in check.

"At the hunt being held in your honour sire."

"Oh yes that." He sniffed, a bored expression on his face. Guy wasn't surprised that he wasn't in attendance, there were always events in his honour and his fickle temperament ensured that he decided on a whim whether to attend or not.

"Sir Guy?" Francesca began timidly; she did not want to interrupt the conversation between the two men, feeling that it was bad mannered of her but as Prince John was still in close proximity, she would take any opportunity she could to get out of there. "I thank you for presenting me to your Highness and I was wondering if you would escort me to the stables, I was hoping to talk to Joseph about something."

She was holding her breath as both men turned to face her, terrified above all at how the prince would respond; he was renowned for his mercurial temper and she did not wish to provoke him by speaking out of turn but if the alternative was to stand there meekly and have him eyeing her up as a potential mistress then she was willing to take the risk.

To her relief, he looked surprised, as if during the brief interruption he'd forgotten she was there. She risked a glance at Guy who was looking at her with a coy smile of amusement that turned her legs to jelly.

She had little time to think on this before it was her turn to be surprised as the prince began to chuckle, smiling at her indulgently, as if what she'd said was charming.

He then directed a knowing look at Guy, "So… it's like that is it?" He spoke slowly, his voice thick with innuendo, one eyebrow hitching skyward, a sly smile creeping over his lips. Guy frowned. Francesca blushed.

"That's what they are calling it these days is it Gisborne? 'Running errands'?" His smile was wicked and his laugh dirty. Guy looked to the floor feeling strangely guilty though he'd done nothing wrong. Francesca was mortified: she had only yesterday sworn to leave him alone in order to _prevent_ situations like this one and now in her eagerness to get away from Prince John, she had laid him open to the kind of insinuations that had already caused him to be so angry with her.

Prince John laughed as if he was having a splendid time, heartily pleased at having apparently uncovered a secret. He strode over to Guy and slapped him hard on the back causing the younger man to almost trip over, "Well Gisborne, I must say you've done well you sly dog!" He grinned as he spoke, his eyes glinting mischievously, "She's a magnificent creature! And so loyal! Would rather go to the stables with you than have anything to do with me eh!?" He leered at Francesca as he said this and she didn't think her face had ever burned so hot in all her life. Guy wasn't the blushing type, he merely kept his head bowed whilst fidgeting with the buckles on his jacket.

"Turns down a prince no less!?" He laughed and looked to his guards as he said this, making a shrugging motion, his expression one of incredulous amusement. The guards laughed with him but it sounded rehearsed - they were obviously used to having to laugh on cue - a requirement of the job most likely.

"And look at her blushing! She's obviously mad about you!" He chuckled knowingly whilst slapping Guy on the back again. The knight was ready for him this time and merely winced before smiling weakly, trying not to boggle at the strangeness of the situation.

There followed an uncomfortable silence which was then filled by Prince John sighing overdramatically and declaring, "Yes, I remember what it is to be young and in love…" he smiled fondly with a faraway look in his eyes and Francesca wondered if she was perhaps in some weird dream - had some of that strange powder Lydia had put on her face got up her nose and was causing her to hallucinate?

"But look at me rambling on! You must both be keen to be getting off to the stables and 'run some errands'!" He laughed and looked to his guards once more for more audience participation - they laughed dutifully if perhaps a tad loudly sparking a dubious look from the prince causing them to shut up abruptly. Guy and Francesca were staring at the floor with identical weirded out expressions.

"Alright then, I shall keep you both no longer, might go 'run some errands' myself…" he smiled lasciviously and Guy checked the urge to groan. _Christ, he is almost as bad as Vaisey…_

Francesca sighed in relief but the ordeal was not yet over for the prince strode decidedly towards her, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips. Guy could see she was uncomfortable but she forced herself to smile despite these attentions and the prince didn't seem to notice anything so all was well.

"You will let her dance with me won't you Gisborne? At the ball next week? You would not deny your prince surely?" He did not even look at Guy whilst asking this, instead letting his eyes roam over her and giving her a sultry look that chilled her to the bone.

"Of course, your Highness." Guy replied tightly, his reluctance obvious.

"Excellent." He grinned brightly at Guy before quickly bringing his eyes back to the girl.

Guy shot Francesca an apologetic look that she gratefully received but had no time to acknowledge for the prince was raising her hand up to his lips once again. He didn't stop at one kiss this time, he gazed at her hungrily before bringing his lips to the inside of her wrist for more and Francesca shivered. The Prince smiled smugly thinking that he aroused her when in fact her shiver was one of revulsion. She breathed deeply and forced herself to school her expression into one of polite cordiality as he then grinned at her and released her hand from his grip.

"Well then, I shall leave you two lovebirds to it…"

The 'lovebirds' bowed in farewell and the Prince kept his eyes firmly upon Francesca as he backed away, "Till next week my lady" he promised huskily before flashing her one last smile and taking his leave.

As he disappeared from view, Francesca closed her eyes and felt herself deflate.

Guy was with her in an instant.

"Are you alright?"

He stood close by but didn't touch her. It was not that he didn't want to, he wanted nothing more but he held back figuring that after what she had just been through the last thing she needed was another man touching her even if it was only to comfort her.

He needn't have worried. As soon as she sensed his proximity, her body automatically gravitated to his and she leaned into him, her forehead resting against his shoulder, one hand drifting to his hip. He closed his eyes and leaned into her, one hand hovering just above her elbow before settling upon her upper arm, rubbing up and down in a reassuring gesture that she obviously had no problem with for she moved closer to him, sighing deeply into his chest. They stood like that for a moment, soaking up each other's warmth, no thoughts other than how good it felt before he finally pulled back a fraction to look at her, both hands gently gripping her elbows. She opened her eyes to find herself gazing into blown pupils and the sight made her own dilate. She stared up at him dazedly as if intoxicated by his proximity and all he could do was stare back the same way. His eyes drifted to her lips and she sighed again, her body content, indeed, never more so than in this moment for her mind had not yet caught up to terrify her with it's myriad of thoughts and doubts.

His deep voice rumbling in his chest brought her crashing back down to earth.

"Are you alright?"

She was surprised to find herself standing so close to him, his thumbs gently ghosting over the crook of her elbows. She shook her head slightly as if to shake herself out of a dream, which is what this must surely be for she was practically in his arms. She smiled nervously and nodded whilst stepping backwards. He smiled weakly and let his hands fall to his sides. They stood there awkwardly for a while both looking to the ground and silently processing all that had happened.

Then at the same time, both began to speak:

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have…"

"I'm so sorry…"

Both looked at each other and laughed.

"You first." He was smiling that lopsided smile again and she thought that if he kept doing that he was going to be the end of her.

She looked up at him in a nervous agony and began to babble, overwhelmed and flustered by it all. "I'm so sorry Sir Guy; I didn't want to put you in that situation, I just wanted to get away from him."

"I know."

"I mean I was just walking back to my room and he was there and I didn't mean for him to…"

"I know."

"Honestly, I just wanted to get back and then he… I mean I should be flattered I suppose but I just can't feel that way, he err… he is…"

Guy nodded; he knew exactly how Prince John was.

"…and then he said those things and I was horrified that he would say such things."

"I know."

"You believe me don't you? I mean I wouldn't ever want for you to…"

"I do."

"Are you angry with me? You are aren't you? I've upset you again haven't I? It's all I seem to do these days…"

"I'm not angry."

"Wait… you're not?" She was so sweetly befuddled that he had an urge to pull her back to him and kiss the adorable expression right off her face.

"I'm not."

She exhaled shakily. She told herself it was because she was so relieved that he was not angry with her but it was actually because of his voice, which was softer and deeper than she had ever heard it. Despite her nerves, she could not resist the impulse to look at him, to glimpse the expression accompanying _that_ voice and if she had been flustered before, it was nothing compared to how flustered she felt upon seeing the intense stare he had fixed upon her. She could not define what it was she saw in his eyes, she had no experience in such things, but it made her feel incredibly self-conscious. She brought her hand up to her face, rubbing nervously at her cheek, unintentionally drawing attention to her cousin's efforts to 'make her beautiful'. She might have forgotten all about that, with all that had happened in the interim but Guy certainly had not.

"It suits you."

She looked up puzzled but then as he gestured to her face and hair she remembered. She went bright red and looked to the floor. "Please…" she had no idea what she was pleading for but it was most probably for him to stop saying things like that - she had never liked being the centre of attention, luckily, she practically never was.

"It does." He continued, much to her unease. A smirk appeared at the corner of his lips. "Prince John seems to think so too."

Her head shot up, her eyes wide with dread, "You don't think he will really want to dance with me do you?"

He regarded her with a tight-lipped sympathetic smile and nodded. Guy was no expert when it came to Prince John's moods but the royal had been explicit in his intentions towards Francesca. She groaned and slumped forward, her head almost touching his shoulder. He quelled the urge to lean into her again.

A moment later, she looked up at him determinedly, "I could beg a headache; I don't want to go anyway."

He chuckled. "Ah yes, you prefer horses to parties as I recall."

Her eyes widened in wonder. That he would remember _that_. She averted her eyes once more; terrified that he would see the surge of hope in them and silently berated herself for reading too much into the whole thing. _He has a good memory. That is all. Don't go getting carried away with yourself._

Guy internally groaned as he asked, "Do you still wish for me to escort you to the stables?" He knew how cheesy it sounded, (not to mention creepy), but figured why not, since they were already on the subject of horses and hoped by raising an eyebrow in mock suggestiveness, she would take it with humour.

Much to his delight she responded just as he'd hoped: laughing loudly and warmly, eyes sparkling with mirth, "Ah yes, we are supposed to be 'running errands' are we not?"

It was only a jest, a reference to Prince John and his silliness but as she realised how forward it sounded she internally groaned herself, blushing bright red, terrified how he would take it.

She was in luck for he found it endearingly amusing. The blush even more so. He smiled and silently offered her his arm, not trusting himself to say any more on the subject.

She shyly took it, trying not to gape. _Well Francesca, we don't want to be rude now do we?_


	12. Chapter 12

XII

"Well, don't you two a make a pretty picture!?"

Joseph was delighted to receive a visit from Lady Francesca and Sir Guy, arriving arm in arm no less.

Francesca groaned and disentangled herself, not wishing for Joseph to get carried away with such ideas. "Please Joseph; we've already had our fill of teasing from Prince John today."

"You ran into him did you? I thought he'd be down 'ere today wantin' to go hunting with everyone else…"

"No, he err… had some errands to run I believe." Guy groaned straight after he'd said it - it was such a terrible joke but much to his surprise Francesca began laughing so hard that he could see tears in her eyes. He was shaking his head - could hardly believe he'd stooped so low as to steal a joke from Prince John and laughed only because he was relieved to see her laugh. Joseph stood there looking at them as if they'd both lost their marbles.

Encouraged by her reaction, Guy pressed on; one eyebrow raised mischievously, "Actually I better be getting off, for I too have…"

"Don't say it! Please don't say it!" She could barely speak now, the words coming out in breathless bursts, her body shaking with the fits of laughter passing through her. She looked up at him but this only made her worse and her face crumpled the instant they made eye contact.

Guy smiled. Beamed actually. Happy to have made her happy. He mercifully spared her the much overused punchline, deciding instead to silently watch her, a warm contented feeling spreading through him. 

Joseph was smiling too, he wasn't in on the joke but it was a pleasure to see Francesca laugh. He also couldn't help but wonder at Sir Guy, he'd never had the knight down as one to say something funny but here was Francesca wiping tears from her cheeks. "Well milady, you'll 'ave to fill me in on that one at some point, I've been run off me feet this mornin' what with all the lords an' ladies off to the hunt an' I could do with a laugh."

Francesca had by now recovered enough to speak, "Oh it was just something silly that Prince John said Joseph."

"Aye well, better you catch him in a silly mood milady, for he can scold as well as your sister when he's so inclined."

This comment received murmurs of agreement from Francesca and Guy. Neither had been so unfortunate as to be on the receiving end of one of Prince John's fits of temper but it was common knowledge how fiery the prince could be and as for Natalia, well, nobody needed to say anything there.

"I should just hide behind Natalia next week; she can dance with him instead." Francesca murmured.

"It is not a bad idea milady; Prince John is notoriously fickle in his affections, if your sister should capture his attention then there is a fair chance that he may well forget any previous offers he has made… and err… if you should wish to hide, you could always hide behind me, I'm tall enough I'm sure."

Francesca felt her heart swell. She was certain he had no clue what he did to her in moments like this. How much his kindness meant to her. An attempt to reassure or console was perhaps of no great consequence to him but for her, coming from the background she did, it meant the world.

She knew how fragile such kindnesses could be however, how quickly they could shatter under the weight of future words and deeds and so was careful not to get used to them. She would put the memories of them away inside her mind, keep them safe for times when she needed them, times when she despaired at the ugliness and cruelty of the world and the people in it and then she would dust them off and remember that things were once different, that people were once kind, that the world is ever changing and that life is very much worth living even if it is just to find comfort in the smallest of kindnesses or most fleeting of moments.

She had a few memories to put away from Sir Guy now and he would never know how dearly she treasured them, how greatly they consoled her or how highly she thought of him.

But she didn't allow herself to hope for more. At eighteen summers old, she may have lived on the earth barely long enough to be called an adult but she knew better than most the danger in letting oneself get carried away with childish fancy.

* * *

Lady Marian of Knighton had always taken a keen interest in her father's affairs.

She knew it was considered unusual because of her gender, not to mention her young age, but she was determined not to let the condescending looks from guests they received at the castle deter her from helping her father in his duties as Sheriff of Nottingham wherever she could.

It wasn't easy though. She often wished she had been born a man, she was sure that then she would not have so many people talking to her as if all she was some empty-headed doll who was only fit for doing embroidery.

Still, at least she could count on the support of her father who had never seen her that way and valued her opinion however headstrong she could be and then there was…

Robin…

who inspired and infuriated her in equal measure for as much as she looked up to him, admired and adored him, he had chosen to leave her to fight alongside King Richard in the Holy Land. She understood his reasons and was not one to stand in the way of anyone fighting for the good of their country but even so, his choice had injured her deeply, leaving her to pick up the pieces of her shattered hopes for the future.

Still…. she missed him.

She never let on but she did. He could be infuriatingly smug, astoundingly full of himself, an unapologetic show off and a stubborn pig-headed fool but there had never been any doubt in her mind as to whom she was going to marry…

until now.

Now she was alone.

It had not gone unnoticed by others...

Her betrothal to Robin had thus far shielded her from the advances of other men, alas no more and suddenly Marian found herself an object of interest to many a young man…

or old…

She might have been thrown for a loop by Robin's leaving and was no longer certain what the future held for her but if it was one thing she did know it was that hell would have to freeze over before she married Harold of Winchester.

He was revolting. The way he looked at her. The way he spoke to her. She had no idea how her father could be friends with him. She detested the very mention of him… and when he came to visit she could hardly bear it.

Fortunately, the castle was large so she had ample room to avoid him most of the time. Or she could go to Knighton but he had the annoying habit of turning up there as well so she mostly took to skulking around the castle like some sort of outlaw whenever he was in the vicinity.

It was on one of these occasions that Marian unwittingly stumbled upon something she shouldn't have.

She had been on her way to the stables one morning when she heard Winchester and her father in one of the corridors. They were talking about her. Winchester remarked that he had not seen much of her lately and her father, knowing her dislike of the man, made excuses for her, mentioning how fond she was of riding. Winchester then decided he should like to go to the stables, "Perhaps she would enjoy some company" were his exact words and Marian remembered thinking she couldn't imagine anything she would enjoy less. With that in mind, she beat a swift retreat in the direction of her chambers.

Unfortunately, Winchester had already caught a glimpse of her walking off and was now in pursuit. She knew she wouldn't make it back to her chambers before he caught up with her and so quickly improvised by ducking into her father's study in the hope of throwing him off her trail. It was there she found Winchester's manservant rummaging through some documents in his master's portmanteau.

His guilty look said it all. A look that Winchester also got to see as he entered the study a few moments later.

Marian would never forget the chill in Winchester's voice as he then said, "If you will excuse us Lady Marian, Willy and I need to have a little chat."

* * *

"Well daughter it seems you have outdone yourself!"

Lord Cavendish was aglow. Prince John had just approached him and told him that he was enchanted by his daughter. Of course, the first thought he'd had was to go to Natalia to tell her the good news.

"Father?"

"Prince John told me he'd seen you!" He took his daughter's hands in his, his chest swelling with pride.

Natalia frowned. "He did?"

"Yes and he told me to tell you that he is counting the minutes till the ball next week!"

Her frown deepened. "He is?"

Cavendish was beginning to worry for Natalia's reaction was not as he'd expected but then he brightened again as he told her, "You should've heard him, he is utterly enraptured by you my dear!"

She looked at him baffled. She couldn't for the life of her remember ever having a conversation with the man. She racked her brain to think of when she had last seen him and honestly couldn't say when that had been, yes, he had been around but not in close quarters with her family.

Then again, it wouldn't be the first time that a man had fallen for her from afar so perhaps he'd seen her somewhere and was now keen to get to know her better. At any rate, she thought no more about it for what else could've happened? _That must be it._ She shrugged and flashed her father a smug smile, "Well then, I suppose I have done rather well for myself haven't I? A prince no less!"

Lord Cavendish beamed at her. He might never wish to part with his dearest girl but for the heir to the throne he thought he could certainly make an exception.

Natalia went back to her room with a spring in her step. She had been looking forward to the ball as it was but now she was especially excited. She'd heard rumours about the prince, that he was spoilt and temperamental but could hardly wait to meet him for herself - after all, if he had such good taste as to single her out then he couldn't be so bad could he?


	13. Chapter 13

XIII

By the time the day of the ball arrived, Francesca was sick to the back teeth of hearing about it.

Lydia was killing her with kindness, bringing ribbons for her dress or combs for her hair, creams for her skin or paints for her face - every day she brought something new and Francesca found herself rolling her eyes every single time. She took pains to keep her exasperation in check however, reminding herself that it was not often that somebody took so much time and trouble for her. What worried her about her cousin's efforts however, was how the changes were drawing attention to her which made her feel uncomfortable, especially now that Prince John had shown an interest in her.

On that front at least, she could breathe a little easier. It seemed that the prince was now captivated by her sister Natalia; indeed, little else was spoke of in her family's chambers or in the halls of court and Francesca welcomed the news even if her father and Natalia's incessant gloating did grate on her nerves. Despite the fact that this meant she was probably off the hook where dancing with him was concerned, she was still not looking forward to the evening. As she watched her relatives getting ready and patiently endured Lydia's fussing, she hoped for some kind of miracle that would prevent her from having to go. She closed her eyes and thought of happy evenings in the stables, where she could just be herself and enjoy spending time with the animals who cared nothing for dresses or dancing. She thought of Sir Guy and the way he had smiled knowingly at her upon hearing Natalia boasting at having captured the prince's attention. Neither of them had mentioned that the prince had also taken an interest in her, for who would believe them, but she was glad he had been there at the time and that he shared in her relief at having apparently been spared further advances from the royal.

"Why Francesca you are glowing! Whatever you are thinking of, keep thinking of it! You shall light up the whole ballroom!" Lydia exclaimed grinning at her. Francesca blushed deep red, she was quite sure that this was going to be the colour of her face most of the evening, no matter what her cousin might say.

As they finally made to leave for the big event, Francesca wondered if it was possible that anyone could be looking forward to this less than she was.

Then she thought of Sir Guy again. He'd looked especially exasperated this week: Vaisey had been giving him a hard time about the ball and as her father had commented that he probably had young ladies lining up to dance with him, Vaisey had laughed so hard it took the best part of twenty minutes to get him to calm down.

Yes, they were partners in dread on this one and a small secret place inside of her liked to fantasize that he might decide on a whim not to go to the ball but instead come sweep her up onto his horse and spirit her away from it all, just like the knights in stories always did with damsels in distress. Then she would berate herself for being ridiculous - she was lucky that he tolerated her at all after all the rumours and insinuations he'd had to listen to because of her: 'rescuing her' would be the last thing on his mind.

Although she tried not to, she thought of him often and his presence had been a comfort to her this week. She often felt strange for not finding pleasure in things that others enjoyed; dancing, parties and socializing, to know that someone else felt the same way made her feel better. Every eye roll or snort of derision from him at one of Vaisey's glib comments brought her a small spark of fondness, every smirk, frown or sigh an almost smile.

She was lost to infatuation, she knew…

but never did she know it more than upon entering the ballroom that evening and seeing him there: aloof as ever, sternly regarding the proceedings, arms folded in front of his chest, looking impossibly handsome and impeccably smart in a dark blue coat and black trousers.

_God in heaven, how can somebody look like _ _ **that** _ _?_

She smiled shyly in greeting and fought the urge to blush; Lydia had gone to so much trouble it seemed a shame to wreck her good work with a face as red as a beetroot.

* * *

Lady Natalia Cavendish honoured her dance partners with her presence but her mind was clearly elsewhere.

She was keeping lookout for Prince John, her stomach fluttering in anticipation of seeing him and as the night wore on, she became increasingly worried that he wouldn't show up.

Funny how different two siblings can be, for not all that far away her younger sister was trying to put the man out of her mind, hoping that he'd been called away on important business or decided to give it a miss. The rest of the family looked on whilst speculating what might have detained the guest of honour. Vaisey found the whole thing hilarious, if anybody knew what it was to wait around for Prince John it was him; he'd been waiting for the man to throw him a bone for weeks.

Guy stood stiffly at Vaisey's side and tried not to stare at Francesca.

She looked lovely.

It was not just that she'd "polished up nicely" as Vaisey had commented upon seeing her, (surprising his lieutenant with this observation, not because it was accurate, but because Guy never thought that he would hear such a thing from Vaisey), it was that there was a certain something about her of late that made many who'd scarcely bothered to look at her before now do a double take. Lydia was rightly proud of her work, Francesca's dress, hair and make-up were all beautifully done but it was a certain blush to her cheeks and glow of her skin that made all the difference.

One could have attributed the changes to that stage in life when a girl is becoming a woman but although this was a factor, it was not the whole story.

The actual reason for the comely bloom of colour to her features was a certain man standing nearby.

Another reason that she was attracting interested glances from eligible attendees of the ball that evening was because of her sister. The rumours about Natalia and Prince John had spread like wildfire, the consensus being that Natalia was now 'off-limits' so-to-speak and so many men who would normally be busy looking at the elder Cavendish daughter now stopped to take a better look at the younger.

Francesca was not sure what to make of it all; she was not used to being regarded in this way and felt somewhat overwhelmed, wishing she could take Sir Guy up on his offer of hiding behind him. As it was, she stayed dutifully at her cousin's side, her good manners ensuring that she politely return any nods and smiles directed at her from interested parties and also dance with Sir Thomas, which she did well despite her nerves.

Lydia was disappointed that no one other than her husband had yet asked her youngest cousin to dance. Little did she realise that there were men present who would like to but were somewhat unsure as to the lady's relationship to a certain tall, dark, imposing knight stood with Lord Vaisey and her father less than a metre away. There were rumours circulating again; talk of secret meetings whilst all had been at the hunt and the way Sir Guy was looking at the girl certainly didn't do anything to dispel them.

Still, there was one man who decided he would ask her anyway, much to Lydia's delight, and it was just at the moment that Francesca shyly accepted that all ground to a halt.

Prince John had arrived.

He was in excellent spirits, greeting everyone as he made his way through the ballroom, chatting briefly with some of his inner circle, smiling broadly and making jokes all the while. He stopped to ask somebody where Lord Cavendish might be found, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of who he was looking for.

Francesca felt tense as she saw him approaching but then reminded herself that he wouldn't be bothering with her so she had no cause to worry. Natalia arriving to take her place at her father's side made her feel better but still she unconsciously took a step backwards only to find herself bump into the solid form of Sir Guy. He smiled at her, making her chest ache.

"Cavendish! I can't tell you how pleased I am to see you!" The prince said sincerely with an enormous grin.

Lord Cavendish and family bowed in greeting. "Good Evening your Highness, the pleasure is all mine. I think I can also speak for my daughter when I say that I am delighted to see you this evening sire." Cavendish nudged Natalia forward a little and she flashed the prince her most charming smile.

He returned the smile but something was not right…

If it was one thing Francesca prided herself in it was that she was good at reading people; she'd had plenty of opportunity to observe others at court whilst her father and Natalia's attentions were elsewhere and at that moment as Prince John smiled at her sister, she _knew_ that all was not as it should be…

_Something here is… wrong…_

As it happened, she was bang on the money.

Her body chilled with a sense of foreboding and she turned her eyes to Sir Guy. He just happened to have an identical frown upon his face.

Then two things happened.

Prince John strode towards her with an ear-splitting grin, unceremoniously nudging the young man who'd just asked her to dance out of the way, taking her hand in his and bringing his lips to the soft skin on the back of her hand…

and…

Francesca's stomach lurched violently.

"Well, I must say you don't make it easy to find you dearest girl! What are you doing hiding back here when your prince is so longing to see you?"

The entire room collectively gasped.

Were it not for the fact that she was the one in this situation, Francesca would have found it funny.

As the prince then brought his lips to the inside of her wrist and fixed her to the spot with a sultry look, the gasps grew louder.

To say that Francesca was horrified was an understatement. She was blushing so hard she thought her head might explode and although she knew she should look at the man before her, she could not; the weight of his stare and of everybody's eyes upon her was too much for her. Prince John was not worried. He resolved her dilemma by bringing one hand up to her cheek and tilting her face up to look at him. His pupils dilated and he bit his bottom lip, she had no idea what she did to him, blushing so prettily.

"Come now my dear, do not be shy! I have thought of nothing but you since we last met, I told your father so!"

Francesca had no idea how she managed it but she smiled weakly in polite response. His smile widened at the sight and he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

Then she looked at her father standing behind the prince; his head also looked as if it would explode but for a very different reason - he was utterly furious. She also caught a glimpse of Natalia beside him who was shaking her head, unwilling to believe what was unfolding before her. Francesca swallowed hard and instantly lowered her head.

Then someone chuckled. It was Vaisey. "Well well, that's a turn up for the books if ever I saw one! You kept quiet about that one didn't you missy?" He hadn't been expecting much from the evening but found this deliciously entertaining.

Francesca squirmed. Prince John found it endearing. He took her hand in his, entwining their fingers and then led her towards her father, sister and Vaisey. In passing, she saw the shock on Lydia's face and wished that she had spoken to her cousin of her encounter with the prince but after hearing about Natalia she had thought it irrelevant, believing as everybody else had, that the prince intended to woo her sister. She had certainly never expected any of this.

She chanced a look over her shoulder, desperately needing to look at the man behind her. The helplessness he felt was obvious, reflected in worried blue eyes. She wished with all her heart that she could go to him.

Her glance backwards did not go unnoticed by Prince John and he sighed before turning to look at the knight stood behind them. "Ah come now Gisborne, I see you looking at me like that! But a promise is a promise my good man and you did say that I could dance with her!" His tone was teasing and accompanied by an amused smirk. "You will not deny me now surely? I will take good care of her, I assure you." He returned his gaze to Francesca as he purred out this last comment, his eyes devouring her.

Vaisey looked at all the shocked faces in the room and couldn't hold back his laughter. This was fantastic! Best of all was Cavendish; Vaisey doubted the man had ever been so dumbstruck in all his life! His spoilt princess of a daughter too! Their faces were priceless. Then there was Gisborne, whose expression was also amusing if somewhat predictable - his boy might have thought he'd not noticed his interest in Francesca but he was wrong for he could read him like a book. As for the girl, well, he had to admit that he felt a certain respect for her - she'd surprised them all hadn't she? Who'd have thought that this timid thing would have charmed not only Gisborne but Prince John as well?

Guy stood watching the prince and was powerless to do anything other than nod his assent. Were it any other man he would have refused him, knowing that in doing so he would be helping her but he couldn't refuse Prince John. He tried to calm down, saying to himself that it was only a dance and that the prince would lose interest soon afterwards but the look in the other man's eyes told him otherwise - he was intent on bedding her, Guy was sure of it and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't bring himself to look at Francesca and so turned his gaze to Vaisey who was enjoying this immensely. The elder man was still laughing but a nod of the head signalled that he approved of his lieutenant's acquiescence, as much as Prince John had been testing his patience of late he would still not allow Guy to defy the man.

With that, it was a done deal. The prince was happy. Cavendish not so much but what was he going to say? It was not as if he could explain why he was so aggrieved to Prince John was it? Natalia was on the verge of a tantrum but her father had a death grip on her wrist that ensured she kept herself in check.

Francesca smiled tightly, keeping up appearances as best she could, telling herself that the last thing anybody wanted was for her to anger the prince, her father and sister were angry enough as it was. Bearing that in mind, she kept her expression one of cordiality, hoping that the prince would perhaps get a closer look at Natalia in the course of the evening and decide that she was the better choice. Unfortunately, it wasn't looking that way at the moment for he only had eyes for her and not that Francesca knew much of such things but they were most definitely bedroom ones. She had difficulty maintaining eye contact but it didn't seem to displease him, on the contrary, he liked it. As prince, he was used to women fawning over him and had bedded many a fair and fawning lady but it was the thrill of the chase that made the bedding all the sweeter and he thought that Francesca was sure to be sweet indeed. The fact that she obviously had feelings for Gisborne didn't concern him much, he was sure that when he was done with her she wouldn't give the knight a second glance.

It was this thought that prompted him to propose a toast. He waited patiently whilst servants scurried over and made sure that everybody had something to drink, his eyes on Guy all the while. "So Gisborne, it seems we are agreed. Let us drink to the health of this beautiful creature…" he looked warmly at Francesca before fixing Guy with a sphinx-like smile, "and an enjoyable evening!"

All dutifully drank from their goblets before the prince took Francesca's hand once more in his, intent on taking her to dance.

It was at that moment, as they were about to go, that Sir Guy of Gisborne collapsed.


	14. Chapter 14

XIV

For a heartbeat, all was still.

Then chaos ensued.

As Francesca realised that Guy was falling, panic gripped her and her chest tightened painfully. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream and no sooner had he hit the ground than she rushed to him and dropped to her knees beside him.

He'd toppled like a tree, his arms had not moved to cushion the blow and so his head had taken the brunt of the fall. Francesca would never forget the sight as long as she lived.

She heard somebody scream but could only vaguely register it, indeed, there was much that went on around her but she registered only muffled voices drowned out by white noise, her senses overwhelmed, left with no choice but to filter out all that was not the man on the ground.

Her eyes took him in and the sight left her terrified. He was face down but she could see that his head was bleeding profusely. Before she knew what she was doing, she shuffled forward on her knees, and watched her hand reaching out to touch him as if it didn't belong to her body. She shook his shoulder to rouse him and tried to call his name but no sound came out or if it did, she didn't hear it.

In those first unreal moments, her senses were either blaring in or dropping out, as if someone was twisting hard on the volume control of her ears or the sound level of her voice. Her ability to take in what was going on around her was at some moments impaired, only to return at others surreally sharp.

She registered particular things straight away like Vaisey yelling at his lieutenant to get up, his voice angry as if the younger man was just messing about and should "quit showing himself up" as he put it. Then other things she recalled much later or not at all, like her response to this comment which was 'a death glare I would never have thought you capable of' as Lydia later told her.

She remembered thinking that Guy must be uncomfortable lying on the floor like that and then how stupid that thought was for he was out cold but she didn't remember shuffling forward to gently cradle his head upon her knees. She remembered turning his head and gently wiping blood off his face but she didn't remember imploring the party of horrified bystanders to fetch a healer.

Of the conversation going on around her she only caught snippets; somebody asking "Is he dead?" or commenting, "Christ, his nose is going to be a right mess…" somebody wondering, "has he had too much to drink?" or joking, "I never had him down as the swooning type…" Francesca felt herself getting angry but forced herself to concentrate on Guy, gently cradling his head in her hands, bending low to speak to him hoping that he would hear her and come to.

Prince John was aghast.

Not because of Gisborne, he couldn't care less about him but because of the girl. It had all been going so well and now look at her: on her knees tending to his rival, it just wouldn't do.

He would have to get him out of there, after all, there was no fun and merriment to be had with an unconscious man bleeding all over the floor was there? He called the guards over; they could carry him out, the girl would probably protest but no matter, he would console her.

Francesca was patiently waiting for a healer to arrive when a group of guards roughly pulled Guy away from her; his head slid off her lap and hit the ground again causing her to cry out angrily at their treatment of him before they began clumsily carting him off.

She rushed to his side, intent on staying with him only to feel a hand forcefully gripping her wrist and dragging her away.

It was her father. He was seething. "Just where do you think you're going?" He hissed, shoving his face in hers and tightening his grip on wrist so much that it hurt.

She winced in pain but then eyed him defiantly. "I'm going with him." She tilted her head indicating the door through which the guards had just carried Guy.

"Oh no you're not. I tell you where you'll go; you'll go back to Prince John…"

She tried to interrupt but he tightened his grip causing tears to spring into her eyes, "I am not asking. This is not negotiable. You will do as you are told. If you do not like it then you can consider yourself to blame for you cannot lead a man on and then leave him hanging…"

Francesca was furious, she had done nothing of the sort but her father left no room for protest; tightening his grip again so that she whimpered in pain. "Have I made myself clear?"

She closed her eyes to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. She took one last look at the door and then dejectedly nodded her assent, wanting nothing more than to give in to a fit of sobs. He then dragged her through the crowd of onlookers towards the prince who waited expectantly with Vaisey and the others. Francesca lowered her head and blinked away the tears that were blurring her vision as she followed him, dreading the ordeal that was to come.

The prince was happy now that Gisborne was out of the way and all was back on track. No sooner had the girl arrived that he folded her into his arms, "There now my dear, I am sure he will be alright, he's probably just indulged a bit too much you know? Give him a few hours sleep and I'm sure he'll be right as rain."

Francesca stiffened as she felt him squeeze her tighter and scoffed at his comment; she didn't believe a word of it. Guy had been fine before he collapsed and had certainly not overindulged.

Prince John didn't much like her attitude but let it pass. As he pulled out of the embrace, he noticed that she was deathly pale and unsteady on her feet. "Are you unwell my sweet?" He looked her directly in the eye but she looked to the floor and remained silent. "Why my dear, we cannot be having you ill." He pulled her back into his arms and she clung to him like a limp dishrag. He gave Vaisey a worried look over her shoulder.

Vaisey approached and whispered, "Sire, perhaps it would be better for her to retire; I don't think she is going to be in any fit state for dancing this evening." It was clear from the suggestive tone of voice that he was referring to something entirely less innocent than dancing.

Prince John sighed deeply. He did not like to be disappointed but what could he do? He wanted her willing. He pulled away to get a good look at her but it was clear that it wasn't going to happen - she was obviously ill, worrying herself sick. He had thought to console her but now found that he had not the patience for it.

This turn of events vexed him exceedingly and he reacted with typical blunt selfishness, shoving the girl towards Vaisey as if she were diseased.

"Yes. Get her out of here." He instructed coldly, all traces of tenderness gone now that he'd realised he was not going to get what he wanted from her. Vaisey grimaced unhappily and merely pushed her towards her cousin; he didn't feel that it was in his job description to tend to sickly girls that Prince John had had enough of.

Lydia received her with a sympathetic smile and hugged her tightly, whispering in her ear. She steered her away from the staring masses but Cavendish wouldn't let her leave without a growled warning; "She goes to her chamber, nowhere else**. **I don't care if Gisborne has dropped dead. She stays in her chamber."

Lydia looked at her uncle with open contempt but said nothing. She and her husband then led her cousin off who looked as if she would collapse at any moment. Francesca kept her eyes to the floor, not wishing to see how everybody ogled her.

As the door shut behind the leaving group, Lord Cavendish smiled as if nothing had happened.

"Your Highness, may I introduce you to my eldest daughter Natalia?"

* * *

Francesca sat limply upon her bed. All colour had drained from her face and she looked haggard.

Lydia was worried about her - she'd not said a word since they left and the elder woman was at a loss at how to get her to open up. She seemed for the most part vacant, lost to all that was going on around her and all Lydia could do was sit with her, gently stroking the palm of her hand.

Sir Thomas looked on helplessly nearby and as the silence in the room became too much for him, he thought he would perhaps be able to soothe her with reassuring remarks…

"I'm sure he'll be alright you know, the fellow looks as strong as an ox, Vaisey has been probably running him ragged of late and he just needs a bit of a rest."

It didn't work.

Francesca frowned. Then tears welled up in her eyes. "He hit the ground with full force…" her voice was on the verge of breaking. Lydia moved closer to her, putting an arm around her. "His head…" she couldn't finish the sentence and gave into her tears. Lydia pulled her into her arms. "Why didn't he catch himself? Why didn't he put his hands out?" She shook her head and wept upon her cousin's shoulder.

_Why did he fall?_

She pulled away to look directly at her cousin, her eyes desperate, "Lydia please…"

Lydia knew what she was pleading for but could not allow it, her uncle had been emphatic and despite the fact that the girl looked more miserable than she had ever seen her, she could not relent. "I'm sorry…"

Francesca collapsed into sobs and Lydia squeezed her tight. "I'm so sorry…"

They sat like that for a while; Lydia rubbing a hand soothingly upon Francesca's back, letting her cry.

At some point, Francesca recovered a little and pulled out of the embrace, gratefully taking the handkerchief Sir Thomas gave her and wiping away her tears. There was a few moments of silence before Francesca looked up with watery eyes at Sir Thomas. "Could you go to him? He is gravely injured and I fear that nobody has taken the trouble to fetch a healer…"

"Do you think that is necessary?" Sir Thomas was still underestimating the gravity of the situation.

"Yes I do!" Francesca replied angrily, sick of everybody playing this down. "Do you see my dress?" She gestured to her skirts that were covered with blood, "This all came from his head!" She blinked back the tears that were forming in her eyes and swallowed hard before taking a deep breath. Sufficiently calm she spoke again, softer now: "Please Sir Thomas, I am very worried… somebody should take a look at him, his head injury is serious and it is not right that he collapsed like that."

"You don't think he overindulged?" Lydia narrowed her eyes and looked intently at the girl.

"No cousin. I do not."

* * *

Sir Thomas was horrified to find that it was just as Francesca had feared.

Nobody had bothered to fetch a healer or tend to Sir Guy's wounds and he lay upon his bed, still unconscious and face down, much as he had been upon the floor of the ballroom, blood pooling beneath him.

In that first moment upon entering the room, he was terrified that the man could be dead for he had lost a lot of blood and looked in a bad way but thankfully the servant who had shown him to Guy's chamber checked his pulse and ascertained that he lived.

As Sir Thomas then got a better look at the man, he felt guilty for having done nothing until now; Francesca was correct in her assessment of his injuries, Guy needed treatment, there was no doubt about that and so he ordered the servant to stay with him whilst he went to fetch a healer. The servant nodded dutifully and said that he would do what he could to clean Sir Guy up during the wait. Sir Thomas thanked him and went on his way.


	15. Chapter 15

XV

Betty Hutchinson had been a servant at the court of Prince John for years and so had seen courtiers in all sorts of states, not a few of them young men who'd had too much to drink. So when she was called upon to tend to Sir Guy of Gisborne she wasn't expecting anything she hadn't had to deal with before.

She routinely assisted the healer, taking over where another servant had started getting him cleaned up and at first, could detect nothing out of the ordinary. He had a large gash to the forehead, cuts and bruises to the face, an extremely swollen (but luckily not broken) nose - the usual injuries one receives when one breaks one's own fall with one's own face.

It didn't take long though to realise that there was nothing at all routine about this.

For one, the man was completely unresponsive. Drunkards were notoriously difficult to rouse but Sir Guy would not rouse at all, no matter what she did.

Then there was the fact that he didn't smell right. Normally when a man is so drunk he falls flat on his face he positively reeks of alcohol (and more often than not, vomit) but Sir Guy didn't smell like that at all. And so it went on… his pupils were dilated… his breathing shallow… his pulse weak and irregular… his skin felt like parchment paper... It just didn't add up…

This man was unconscious, not in a drunken stupor.

"You say he suddenly collapsed?" The healer; a man named Jenkins asked the nobleman who'd alerted them to Sir Guy's condition.

"Yes, it came completely out of the blue. Everybody assumed he'd had too much to drink but my wife's cousin doesn't think that he did." Sir Thomas replied, watching Jenkins uneasily as he examined Sir Guy.

Jenkins didn't look at Sir Thomas instead remained focussed on the patient, opening his mouth and checking his windpipe for blockages. "Your wife's cousin is right. This man is not drunk."

Sir Thomas was astonished. "He's not?"

"No." Jenkins was frowning and shaking his head.

Betty wore a similar frown, "It's like he's dead" she murmured unhappily.

Sir Thomas was very worried; this was far worse than he'd expected. He gestured vaguely to Sir Guy as if to indicate his condition. "Is it because he hit his head?"

"No… though that certainly won't have done him any favours." Jenkins checked Guy's pulse again.

Sir Thomas blinked at him confusedly. "So… if he is not drunk and he is not like this because of the fall then…?"

An ominous silence filled the air and Jenkins raised his eyes to meet those of the nobleman. 

"It is because he has been poisoned."

* * *

"I don't understand."

Sir Thomas sighed. Francesca had just summed up exactly how he felt as well.

"You mean poisoned as in eaten something bad?" Lydia asked, looking for a plausible explanation.

"The healer said this is different."

"Different how?" Lydia didn't know what to make of her husband's reply.

"Well, when somebody becomes ill from eating rotting meat they vomit or have to… err…" Sir Thomas didn't have to say any more, it was obvious from the disgusted look on both women's faces that they understood what he was referring to.

"…and that hasn't happened with Sir Guy, he is still unconscious." Francesca replied, worry deeply etched into her features.

Sir Thomas nodded. He felt helpless for all he had been able to tell them was the bare facts; Guy was still unconscious and could not be roused, the reason for that was not the injuries to his head, nor having had too much to drink but the poison in his system.

"So you are saying that this was no accident?" Lydia tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, the ramifications of this running through her mind.

"I am saying that this was not a case of eating spoilt food."

That was all he would allow himself to say. He didn't want to think about the alternative.

That he did not want to think about it did not mean that it didn't exist or would simply go away and now he and both women _were_ thinking about it: the very real possibility that somebody meant for this to happen.

They all looked at each other horrified.

"Why would somebody do such a thing?" Francesca's voice was small and pitiful; she couldn't believe that this was happening and with every fibre of her being didn't want to believe it but her mind supplied her with no other explanation.

"…and why him?"

A good question.

"I don't know Fran, I honestly don't know." Lydia answered, trying to wrap her mind around the incomprehensible.

"What could one have to gain? There are dozens of nobles here with rank and title, why would somebody do this to him?"

Another good question. One could understand an attempt on the life of King Richard, or Prince John or even somebody as wealthy as her father but a landless knight? It didn't make any sense.

"I don't even know how such a thing is possible." Sir Thomas admitted, "I mean one minute he's fine, joining the prince in a toast and the next minute he's…"

All three froze in horror.

Francesca's eyes widened impossibly and her jaw dropped open; she brought her hand up to cover her mouth in case she might scream. She didn't. All she managed was a choked whimper.

"You don't think...?" Sir Thomas didn't have to say anymore; the look on his wife's face said it all.

"Oh my God!" Lydia put one hand upon the bed thinking she might pass out.

Now they knew the how…

"You think Prince John would…?" Sir Thomas looked at Francesca, as did his wife, both obviously following the same line of thinking.

If Francesca had thought herself miserable before then that was nothing compared to her misery now. The thought that Guy had been poisoned by the prince because of her made her ill and it was not long before the agony of this thought took hold of her completely and she collapsed into sobs.

Lydia pulled her close once more and tried to console her as best she could but of course, Francesca remained miserable, her mind a maze of questions and thoughts, all of them making her increasingly upset.

"He didn't have to hurt him!" She choked out between sobs, "If he had wanted me, what could Guy have done about it anyway?" She paused to take a laboured breath, the sobs and sentences coming in tandem, "If he had wanted him out of the way, he could've just sent him away."

Lydia and Sir Thomas looked on as she wound herself up more and more, the sobs coming harder and harder, shaking her whole frame, contorting her face in an agony of sadness.

"She does have a point there, I mean he is the prince, if he doesn't want the man around then he can just order him to leave, he doesn't have to poison him does he?" Sir Thomas offered whilst looking encouragingly at Francesca.

They had to admit that it didn't add up. Poisoning a love rival wouldn't be necessary for Prince John - he wouldn't have to stoop so low and if for whatever reason he did wish to get rid of somebody he could do it publicly, it was far easier to order a hanging than go to the trouble of arranging a poisoning.

"Has he ever done it before, do you think?" Lydia looked to Sir Thomas; he was the one in their household who kept abreast of politics.

"Well, he has many mistresses and not a few of them are young ladies who were intended for someone else but this would be his first poisoning." Sir Thomas admitted.

"It seems like too much trouble…" said Lydia, thinking aloud, "a poisoning would take scheming and planning and he isn't the type: he is the kind of man who just takes what he wants, all others be damned…"

"Yet he proposed the toast and then Sir Guy collapsed." Sir Thomas pointed out, feeling more confused than ever.

It was a lot to take in and nobody could say with absolute certainty just what had happened here.

"Will he die?" Francesca's eyes welled up with tears once more, as she looked to Sir Thomas.

"I don't know. The healer says that his condition is critical. He is doing all he can to bring him round and flush the poison out of his system but other than that…"

"Only time will tell." Francesca murmured sadly, burying her head in her hands.

* * *

Natalia Cavendish was confident that the prince was half in love with her already. After all, she'd done an excellent job of showing him that she was the far superior choice.

She still couldn't believe that he'd even noticed her sister, let alone wanted to dance with her; Fran was hopeless - dull as ditch water, plain as they come, a nervous dancer, poor at small talk, the list of her faults went on and on… What could he have been thinking? No, she was satisfied that now he'd had a chance to make her better acquaintance he wouldn't spare another thought for _her. _A prince deserves the best: only the most beautiful and accomplished of ladies, the Frans of this world need not apply.

Prince John and herself, now that was a different story: they made an excellent match, everybody said so - one only had to see them together… It was right. It was as it should be. It fitted. If one was too idiotic to see it then one could read it in the reactions of the onlookers: as the prince had approached Francesca, everybody had been shocked, but as he'd danced with her it had been the opposite, everybody had been relieved, the knowing smiles had returned for all was well, the natural order of things had been restored and one could finally enjoy the evening.

Her father had never been prouder of her or angrier with Francesca and that just said it all didn't it?

Still, it was a shame the prince had not stayed longer, she had hoped to work her charms on him a few dances more but alas, it was not to be – he said he had important business to attend to the following day. She did all she could to persuade him to stay but he insisted that duty called and he could not linger, not even to enjoy her gloriousness.

A pity to be sure, but she was certain he would want to see her again and was in no doubt he would think of her as he lay down to sleep that night.

* * *

Lord Vaisey had always been good at reading behind the lines.

That is why, when Prince John announced he wished to retire for the evening, he was the only one who was not surprised. Everybody else might have been fooled into thinking the prince was having a splendid time and he might have even fooled himself there too for a while but Vaisey had known what would happen from the start.

As the royal requested his company whilst taking leave of Cavendish and his daughter, he fell in step with him without even raising an eyebrow.

"Important business tomorrow eh?" Vaisey quipped; the smirk on his face said it all. "Still, you have to admit she's a sport and certainly a beauty." The elder man glanced over his shoulder at Natalia.

"But no fun." The Prince replied coldly.

Vaisey understood. There's no fun to be had at the hunt if the deer lays itself out in front of the huntsman. Or is served on a silver platter (by the father in this case).

The prince smiled at well-wishers as he left the ballroom, lapping up the adulation but Vaisey knew what was really going on with him.

He would be thinking of someone as he lay down to sleep that night…

and it would be a Cavendish girl…

but not Natalia.


	16. Chapter 16

XVI

All Francesca wanted was to go to Guy. That she could not distressed her beyond measure.

She knew that her best chance to get to him would be to convince Lydia to let her go before her father returned from the evening's entertainments but decided against it, not wishing to expose her cousin to her father's wrath. As for him, she knew better than to try asking.

That meant that the only option left was to wait. Problem was, Guy might not have much time. She told herself that he was in good hands, that the healer was doing all he could, that even if she could go to him there wasn't really anything she could do but she couldn't help it… she had to see him…

to tell him she was sorry…

that she had not wanted this...

that if there was anything she could've done to prevent this, she would have done it…

that she loved him…

No, she wouldn't tell him that.

What could the poor man do with that? _Hello Sir Guy, I'm terribly sorry that you lie here poisoned because of me and err… I know it doesn't make you feel any better but errm... I just thought you should know that I love you._

_Yep. _

_That sounds about as good as I thought it would._

Francesca slumped forward, her head in her hands. It was torture to sit and worry like this but what else could she do? If her father would not allow her to go then she would just have to wait.

_How long though? _

A sneaky voice somewhere inside her suggested '_til he sleeps_ and she found herself smiling. Yes, that was it, that was exactly what she would do and till then she would be the best-behaved, most dutiful daughter there is – she would listen to his angry tirades, take his indignant rebukes, be as quiet and meek as the smallest mouse….. give him no cause to suspect that she would disobey him… and then when he slept, she would leave.

It would take every ounce of self-control she had; she would have to hear all manner of ugly words directed at her, every kind of insult, she was sure. Then there would be all the praise heaped upon Natalia because it was fine and dandy for the golden girl to attract a prince whereas she, well, she was just dirt wasn't she?

And so it came to pass. Just as expected.

Her father and Natalia returned, heartily satisfied with themselves and thoroughly disgusted with her and she listened to every word they had to say, a mask of neutrality firmly ensconced upon her face, a tight grip upon her reactions, a patience that had survived an entire lifetime of goading and would survive another evening… long enough to… let them finish their diatribe…

then slip away…

She thought of Guy. Alone. Lying upon his bed. Maybe he'd come round by now. Maybe he was in pain. Maybe he would like to see a familiar face. She doubted Vaisey would sit with him and she couldn't picture him being of much help if he did.

She would bide her time, her father could do his worst.

She could take it.

* * *

_Finally. _

Jenkins gave a huge sigh of relief.

_He is awake… _

_and vomiting like the best of drunkards!_

Luckily, Betty had managed to get Sir Guy sitting up with a pail under his chin before he decorated the bed with his upchuck. Not that he was grateful for it though, pushing her away whilst giving her a look that would pierce through steel. She remained unfazed however, grumpy patients were her specialty. She returned to his side to pat him on the back whilst he continued to empty his stomach into the pail and although he flinched away from her, she didn't budge.

"That's it lad, you get it all up!" She smiled at him as if he'd been a good boy and done a trick. He gave her a death glare but couldn't follow it with an angry snarl because his stomach wished to torture him some more.

Betty smiled triumphantly at Jenkins for it had been her idea that had brought the stricken man round. Jenkins didn't like to concede defeat but in this case he was so relieved to see the patient conscious that he couldn't help but smile as well.

"Told you didn't I? Donkey's p*ss! Never fails!"

Jenkins was happy to admit she was right. Guy paused for a second to look at Betty with an alarmed expression on his face before spewing again.

Jenkins chuckled. He had tried for ages to find the right method to bring the man out of his deathlike state but in the end it had been donkey's p*ss poured very slowly down his throat that had done the trick. Not literally donkey's urine, I mean where would they find a donkey at the court of Prince John? but instead the next best thing: the wine reserved for the servants, affectionately known to all as donkey's p*ss and perhaps the next worst substance known to mankind after whatever somebody had poisoned Sir Guy of Gisborne with.

Bearing that in mind, Guy was now dealing with a double dose of poisoning so-to-speak and the reproachful expression on his face in between bouts of vomiting spoke volumes of his misery.

What he didn't understand was that this had to be - the poison had to be flushed out of his system otherwise it would kill him, it still might for all they knew, so as unpleasant as being violently sick was, it was certainly preferable to being dead.

Jenkins looked on as Guy continued to heave; he had nothing left in his stomach now but his guts spasmed unceasingly causing him to curl up wretchedly clutching the pail whilst Betty rubbed his back murmuring nonsense in an attempt to soothe him.

It was not the first time they had tended to some poor soul like this but they were under no illusion that this was the same as what they were used to. This was not a case of just puking it out, sleeping it off and dealing with a hangover. Poison was unchartered territory for all involved, nothing that they had ever encountered before; Jenkins had read about various poisons and their effects but had never thought that he would ever be called upon to treat somebody who'd fallen victim to poisoning. Even if someone had tried to kill Prince John, it would not have been his concern for the prince had his own personal healer but here he was puzzling at the symptoms of a man who had merely attended a ball at his lord and master's bidding.

A lord and master who was having none of it.

Vaisey did not believe that his lieutenant had been poisoned and had laughed incredulously upon being informed of Guy's condition. "No, I think you'll find that you are mistaken my good man, Gisborne is not important enough to warrant a poisoning!"

Jenkins had protested pointing to his patient who'd still been unconscious at the time, "Important or not, poisoned he is!"

Vaisey had continued chuckling, "He is landless. He has nothing. He _**is **_nothing! At any rate, far less than the cost and trouble of poisoning him!"

He had a point. Jenkins was no expert in politics or indeed poisoning but if one was to poison anybody it probably wouldn't be Sir Guy of Gisborne…

and yet here they were…

The whys and wherefores were above him, heck, even treating the victim was above him: he was winging it here, not even able to say what poison they were dealing with. He'd once read about the effects of plants in the nightshade family and Sir Guy's symptoms seemed to tally with that but then again different parts of the plant could be used to different effect, then there was the matter of what dose had been used - all factors that made this much more complicated.

One also had to consider that these days people were bringing back all sorts of plants and potions from the holy land, stuff not even the best healers had seen… Yes, it was a fine old mess and he had no qualms in admitting that he was out of his depth on this one.

These were the thoughts running through his mind as he watched Vaisey walk over to his lieutenant. Jenkins wondered if he was about to come out with another sarcastic comment but was surprised to see him reach out to gently touch the stricken man's face.

It had been a blink and you'll miss it moment, making the healer wonder if he'd imagined it, for only seconds earlier Vaisey had given the impression that he couldn't care less about the whole affair or the man lay upon the bed.

"Keep an eye on him for me."

The lord didn't look at the healer, only left the comment with him before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Joseph, Betty you are angels I am sure of it."

Francesca was sorry to disturb the couple for it was the middle of the night but knew no other way to find where Sir Guy was lodging.

As it was, she was in luck, for Betty had just returned from that very place to fetch fresh linens, to be greeted by her husband Joseph who had been wondering where his wife had gotten to this night. Upon learning of Sir Guy's plight, Joseph's first thoughts had been of Francesca only to have her turn up on his doorstep not long after his wife's return.

The couple had not hesitated to bring her to Sir Guy, indeed Betty had been more than glad to for she was worn out and figured that perhaps Francesca could take over tending to Sir Guy, indeed, maybe she would have a better time of it for he was proving to be a difficult patient. And so it was with a thousand thankyous from the girl that Betty passed on her basket of fresh linens and gladly gave up a second round with Sir Guy to go home with her husband instead, wondering if Francesca would be so eager to thank her after a night of dealing with a very cranky knight.

Francesca tentatively entered Guy's chamber not sure what she would find. Two sets of eyes instantly met her gaze: one sympathetic, the other angry.

"**Get out!**"

Needless to say, Sir Guy was not the sympathetic one. His voice was rough and menacing, his mouth curled into a snarl, his mangled face contorted with fury.

In that first moment Francesca considered leaving for he made a terrible sight - his face was a puffy, swollen mess and the rabid look in his eyes was frightening but something about how pathetic his general appearance was, made her stay. His body was bent around the pail before him, his fingers gripping so hard on the brim the knuckles were white and his imposing frame seemed so much smaller now that he was clad only in loose underclothes.

"No, please don't leave." Jenkins gave her a weak smile, having already recognised the basket in her hands and deduced that this must be a certain wife's cousin come to visit the invalid. He hoped very much that she would stay for not only was it a chance for Betty to get some rest but also because this girl, who had saved Sir Guy's life through her actions, (calling alarm where all others had not), could perhaps help Guy become an easier patient. It wasn't looking much like it right now but Jenkins lived in hope.

Francesca returned the smile, pulled the fresh linens out of the basket and asked him how she could help. The sick man looked on astonished. Jenkin's grinned. He hoped she had brought an abundance of patience with her for she was certainly going to need it.


	17. Chapter 17

XVII

"I SAID NO!"

Francesca winced at Sir Guy's angry tone of voice but stood her ground. "Come now, just a sip. It will make you feel better." She gestured to the goblet of water she was holding, careful not to get too close for it was the third one now; he'd batted the other two out of her hands. His answering growl would have been more unnerving had he not had to heave again.

"Well Sir Guy, I must say you're not being very welcoming to your visitor are you?" Jenkins sighed looking at Francesca's dress, which was soaking wet at the front. Still could've been worse he supposed; it could've been vomit.

Guy wanted to hurl the bucket in his hands at the man's head but refrained because he still needed it. Francesca put the goblet down on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed, Guy tried to shuffle away from her but quickly gave up for it was too much effort in his weakened state. He settled instead for grunting curses at her that she couldn't hear properly because his head hung in the bucket.

Eventually he surfaced and lay back, panting hard from the strain of continual heaving, a deeply miserable expression on his face. Francesca put the bucket to one side and moved to build a pile of pillows beneath him but he didn't want her help, gripping at her wrists and clumsily pushing her backwards. She was momentarily alarmed but could tell that there was no real force behind his movements and so she smirked at him and redoubled her efforts. He gave up and let her get him comfortable.

Jenkins grinned, happy for small victories. "Is that not better Sir Guy? It's not so bad is it? She's come to visit you in the middle of the night, the least you can do is be good for her eh?"

Guy was too exhausted to insult the man as he would very much like to and could only manage a weary look in his direction before closing his eyes and curling up upon the pillows, riding out the convulsions that continued to torment his body. Francesca pulled the sheets up around him and then reached over for the goblet.

"Come now Sir Guy, shall we try again?" Her expression was nervous but her dogged persistence made Jenkins smile.

Guy relented, no longer able to resist for illness and exertion had drained him. Francesca smiled and with both hands brought the goblet to his lips, then as she was sure he was not about to change his mind and give her another soaking, she gently tilted his head back so he could take a sip. He spluttered and a fair bit of water ended up on his chest but Francesca was happy to see that he managed a few sips before finally shaking his head to signal he'd had enough.

Jenkins sat down upon a chair in the corner of the room and smiled approvingly at his helper, he'd been worried that she might not be able to handle Sir Guy but she'd so far taken all that he'd thrown at her with quiet determination. She was obviously fond of him despite the fact that he was behaving like a wounded bear and it wouldn't surprise him if, when Sir Guy came back to his senses, he found himself grateful to have such a patient carer. It was whilst thinking along these lines that he found himself nodding off. He didn't fight it, it had been a long night and he was sure that the patient was in good hands.

*

"NO! PLEASE!"

Jenkins jolted awake at the sound of Sir Guy's shouting. Francesca looked just as surprised as he was.

"HELP ME!" Guy's voice was high pitched and strangled with fear; his fingers curled into tight fists gripping at the sheets and his whole frame was shaking uncontrollably. His eyes were the worst; impossibly wide and dark, pupils swallowing up his pale blue irises, darting from place to place - terrified, confused, pained.

"What is it?" Francesca wondered what could have put Guy in such a state for nothing had changed; everything was as it had been a while earlier when she'd urged him to shut his eyes and sleep. Guy didn't answer, only looked at her as if he didn't know who she was.

Jenkins rushed from his seat to get a closer look at Guy and Francesca made room so he could examine him. "Just want to get a look at you…"

"NO!" Guy flinched away from him, not having any of it, staring with wild panicky eyes.

"Come now, it's alright, we're only trying to help." Jenkins tried to get closer but Guy scooted away and his back slammed up against the head of the bed. He was sweating and twitchy: running on a surge of adrenaline despite exhaustion. The healer sighed impatiently, still sleep addled and wished he could just leave his patient to it and return to his comfy chair.

"What is wrong with him?" Francesca asked, deeply worried about Guy who was looking at them both as if they were there to do him harm.

"Well, it's difficult to say but it could be that he is experiencing some kind of hallucinations…"

"Seeing things?"

"Yes. Poison not only affects the body but also the mind." Jenkins could come up with no other explanation for Guy's current behaviour. Before he was cranky and uncooperative, now he was nearly climbing the walls, terrified of the very people who were trying to help him.

"Can we do anything for him?"

"If I knew what I was dealing with here then maybe I could give him something to counteract the effects of the poison but that's just it, I don't know… which means that I also don't know what to give him." Jenkins looked at her apologetically and she nodded to signal that she understood. Giving him the wrong cure would do him more harm than good.

She watched Guy cowering against the bedhead, his eyes staring intensely, images of who knows what passing before them and was terrified by the thought that the damage done to him by the poison could be permanent. That Guy might not come out of this state of being, that the hallucinations might never go away, that he could be haunted by nightmarish visions for the rest of his days.

Her eyes filled with tears and it felt as if her heart was being crushed under an enormous weight. She brought her hands up to her face to hide her distress from the healer standing beside her but he sensed her despair and gently pulled her by her elbow, steering her to a corner of the room out of Guy's hearing range. "Come now, don't lose heart…" he murmured softly, "look how well he was doing before, I didn't think any of us would get him to drink…"

She looked up and wiped away her tears, then gave the kindly man a smile, grateful for his attempts to cheer her. She then took a deep breath and walked back to the bed. Guy eyed her suspiciously but she sat down upon the bed regardless.

"I am not going to hurt you." She spoke softly, looking him in the eyes, "I am just going to sit here ok?"

He said nothing, only tilted his head and that is how she knew he was listening to her. He kept his eyes down but they were still filled with confusion and fear - the terrible fear of not knowing what was happening to him or how to make it stop.

Seeing him like this made her want to take his hand in hers to comfort him but she refrained, not wishing to anger or alarm him.

"I know you'd rather have us leave you be but you've been very ill, you _are_ very ill and we just want to keep an eye on you alright?" She angled her head to look at him directly and although it was as if he was looking through her, she had a feeling he was able to understand her.

"I will sit with you. I don't know what is happening to you but I promise I won't leave you to go through it alone ok?" Her reassurances were as much for herself as for Guy; she needed to be there with him. He had suffered so much and she would not have him suffer alone no matter what he might think of it.

"If there is anything you need, you tell me. If there is anything I can do, I'm here. I shall sit with you. I won't leave you."

She didn't touch him, she could not hold him, there would be no handshake to seal the deal - to sit with him was all she could do and she hoped he would be ok with it because she was staying and that was that.

* * *

It was a long night.

Francesca was as good as her word.

She sat with him when he was sick which was often: his body ejecting the little water she'd managed to get into him at sporadic intervals. She kept her distance for she knew he would not want her hovering over him whilst he emptied his stomach but she was not so far away that she couldn't see that there was blood mixed in with the vomit now, something that alarmed her exceedingly.

She sat with him when he was shivering and feverous, cooling his brow with a wet cloth when he let her, which alas was not often for he seemed to prefer shivering and batting her hand away instead.

She sat with him when he was bent double with pain, his face contorted in agony, his hand seeking hers then gripping so tightly she thought he'd break the bones. Luckily, she had his favourite wet cloth nearby which never failed to get him to let go to shield himself from the evil rag.

She sat with him when he screamed like a man possessed, trying to vanquish whatever demons were plaguing him, her hand seeking his to let him know that she was there with him, no matter what and he could happily mangle her hand if it meant that he would find some comfort in her presence and stop screaming.

She sat with him when he was staring at her as if she was the devil incarnate, trying to remember that he had never looked at her like that before, that it was the poison that was making him this way, distorting all that he saw and all that he was. She told herself that he was there underneath; the man she knew and that she would be brave for him for he was the reason she was there.

She sat with him although she was exhausted for as exhausted as she was, how exhausted must he be? His body and mind punished him endlessly, would give him no peace, would allow him no rest, and as she looked on helplessly she could imagine that he must wish that he was dead, that the poison would just finish him off so he would finally find sweet release.

She sat with him as she felt herself nodding off; cursing her own weakness for what good was she to him asleep? What was the point of her being there if she could not keep an eye on him? What if something were to happen to him whilst she was dozing? What if he stopped breathing? If he couldn't get any air? His breathing was bad enough as it was, what with his nose being a swollen mess and his throat raw from repeated vomiting and here she was snoozing!? She startled herself awake and noticed that Guy was nodding off as well. But what if he wasn't nodding off but dying?

She decided to wake Jenkins, (who had fitfully slept in the chair through much of the commotion waking only when Guy had been particularly loud in expressing his distress), she didn't like to do it but didn't want to take any chances with Guy being so sick.

Jenkins wished he could do something to put his helper at ease but could make her no promises; Guy was still dangerously ill and he knew it could go either way. All they could do was wait and hope. He watched the girl and his patient, both were obviously exhausted but neither giving up: Guy clung onto life and Francesca sat with him just as she had promised.

It was just before dawn that sleep finally found them both - Francesca slumped against the headboard, Guy curled up at her side.

Jenkins kept careful watch over them both.


	18. Chapter 18

XVIII

Francesca awoke to find Lydia sitting upon the bed.

She'd barely slept an hour.

"You're lucky it's me sitting here and not your father." Lydia meant it seriously but a small smirk on her lips betrayed her amusement. "Really Fran? Sneaking out at night to visit boys?!"

Both women laughed.

Then Francesca remembered. She turned abruptly to look at Guy.

"It's alright! He's alright…" Lydia said softly, "he looks terrible but he's still with us."

She was correct in her assessment; he did look terrible. He lay curled up and shivering at Francesca's side, looking gaunt and frail. His swollen nose engulfed his bruised and battered face and his skin was waxy and bathed in sweat. He was sleeping but not peacefully, his brow was taut with tension and his jaw clenched. His whole body seemed to be tightly wound, like a bow string about to snap and it was as if the only thing that was keeping him tethered to the world was his fingers twisted in Francesca's skirts.

But he was still with them.

He lived.

He had survived the night and although he looked worse than ever, he had not given up.

Francesca watched the sleeping man and smiled tenderly. Lydia knew her cousin well and had never doubted her feelings for Guy, but at that moment, seeing her look at him that way, the realisation that Francesca was in love with him hit her with full force. It made what she had come there to say all the more difficult.

"I've come to fetch you."

Francesca sighed. She had been expecting this. "I promised him I would stay with him."

"I know but as soon as uncle discovers you are missing he will come here and you know what that means."

She did indeed. Her father would drag her out of there if he had to and there would be no talking him out of it. She continued watching Guy and her heart sank.

It was then that Betty made her presence known, she'd arrived earlier and had overheard the conversation but remained silent not wishing to interrupt. Now she decided to put Francesca at ease, "There now milady, don't you fret, I'll keep an eye on him for you I promise. You don't go upsettin' yer father now, the last thing we be needin' is him comin' here scoldin' and makin' a racket."

Francesca knew she was right, that would be no good for any of them right now. "I will come back…" she said, her voice thick with tears.

Betty folded her into an embrace, whispering soothing words in her ear; "yes you do that love, as soon as you can; we'll look after him for you till then alright?"

She nodded and then set about trying to extract Guy's fingers from her skirts. As she did so, he murmured and clung to her fingers instead. This made her very nearly burst into tears but she closed her eyes to stop herself, brought his fingers to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss upon them.

She leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I will come back. I promise."

* * *

The Cavendish family dined together that morning and to the unknowing eye, nothing was amiss.

Lord Cavendish and his eldest daughter were in excellent spirits, indeed, one would never had suspected that anything untoward had happened the previous evening. The remaining member of the Cavendish family however, was noticeably quiet: Francesca found she had nothing to add to their conversation about Prince John and wisely remained silent on that subject and all others. Fortunately, her father and sister assumed that her silence was the result of the dressing down they had given her and although their anger was often the reason why Francesca was cowed into silence, the actual reason was because her thoughts were very much elsewhere, namely with Sir Guy of Gisborne.

When the conversation turned to that subject and Natalia put forth her opinion on the matter with her usual inane remarks, Francesca found it took incredible effort to keep herself in check.

"Fancy showing himself up like that! If he can't hold his drink he shouldn't attend such events!" Natalia declared and Francesca wanted nothing more than to set her straight but knew that defending him or telling her family what had really happened to him would get her nowhere and would probably make things worse. They wouldn't believe her anyway, she was sure of that, so there was no point wasting time explaining. She would just have to endure their ignorant assumptions until they found something else to gossip about.

Although she remained silent, anybody who bothered to take a proper look could see how difficult it was for her. She kept her head down and her reactions under control but the stress and worry over what had happened to Guy coupled with the strain of sitting with her father and sister whilst pretending everything was normal had taken it's toll on her. She was pale and sickly; there were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, her eyes were dull and her expression blank - a shadow of the girl she had been the previous evening before they'd set off for the ball.

Her promise to Guy was all that could cheer her. She would not let him down. She was determined. No matter what they said about him. She knew the truth and that was all that mattered.

* * *

To say that Cochran was not best pleased to receive a visit from Lord Vaisey was an understatement.

Not least because he was hungover something shocking.

He had known that for him and his fellow servants that after the official party was when the real party started but he had not expected the party to go on quite so long or for himself to get quite so smashed. Still, he couldn't be all that surprised really, all things considered; _If you will go drinkin' donkey's p*ss then it's no wonder yer feelin' like a destroyed donkey is it?_

He supposed he should thank Betty for taking the rest of the bottle off him, if he'd finished it, he would now be lay comatose in a pool of his own vomit most likely. As he approached the nobleman waiting for him, he wondered if that would have been the better option.

"You are Cochran yes?" Vaisey gave the servant the once over, who nodded to signal that he was indeed the man he was looking for.

"You were in charge last night?"

Again, Cochran nodded, he considered asking if there had been a problem but knew that the lord was about to spill the whole sorry story anyway - if there was one thing he knew, it was that when it came to complaints, the nobility were not backwards in coming forwards.

"Well my friend, you would be aware then of a certain incident would you not?"

Cochran could only give the Lord a blank look. It was a party; there had been many 'incidents'.

"My lieutenant had a bit of a fall; does that ring any bells with you?"

_Yeh, him and god knows how many others. It was a party. People drink a lot and fall over, it's what they do._

Vaisey had registered that no bells were ringing and was getting impatient. Cochran decided to try and engage what was left of his alcohol sodden brain. "Big fella yeh?"

"Yes, tall, dark, doesn't get on well with servants…" _or anybody else come to think of it…_

"Face were a mess, guards had to drag 'im out yeh?" Bells were ringing with Cochran now, Vaisey was happy to see.

"Yes, funny thing is though, he hadn't had much to drink."

It was this that had got Vaisey thinking. Well that and the fact that his loyal servant had been unable to serve him this day. Last night he might have thought that his boy was merely sleeping off the effects of too much alcohol but one look at him this morning had been enough to convince him that this was certainly not the case.

_He'd looked as if he was about to check out any minute. Might be dead now for all I know._

No, he had not for the life of him wanted to believe that Gisborne had been poisoned but faced with such compelling evidence what else could he believe?

"What are you saying?" Cochran was feeling very uneasy all of a sudden and didn't want to think about what Vaisey was implying.

"Well, it is a little strange don't you think? One minute he's fine and the next…" Vaisey didn't have to spell it out, his words were like a bucket of cold water to the face. This was a serious matter Cochran knew and he wished more than anything that he had just stayed in bed that morning and let somebody else deal with this or better still taken off and run to the hills like that one bloke he knew who'd had enough of the job.

"Now then, what I want to know is did anybody see anything last night? Or notice anything unusual?"

Cochran already had a splitting headache and thinking just made it worse so he decided it would be best if he called in for reinforcements on this one. He informed Vaisey of his intentions, leaving out the bit about how he was sh*tfaced drunk last night and therefore his memory was not the most reliable before leading the lord to his colleague Stubbins, who burst out laughing as soon as he saw him.

"Eh is that you Cocky? Y'alright lad? How's thee doin'? Bloody 'ell yer a sight for sore eyes! Still not surprisin' considerin' all that p*ss you were drinkin' last night eh!?"

Cochran didn't have to say anything, as soon as his colleague noticed the nobleman standing behind him, he wisely altered his tone, "Err… Good Mornin' milord, is there somethin' we can do for thee?"

Vaisey smirked and enjoyed the sheepish look on Stubbin's face whilst Cochran did the honours of explaining what it was he was doing here.

"Well milord, I don't rightly know that there was any strange goin' ons last night… I do recall yer man 'avin himself a fall but I don't reckon that's got anythin' to do with us yer know? Some fellas get into the wine an' don't know when to call it a day." Stubbins smirked at Cochran as he said this but Vaisey didn't find it amusing.

"Well my friend, it does have something to do with you because Gisborne did NOT drink anywhere near enough to fall flat on his face. Which means that somebody put something in his drink and since it is you and your colleagues who are responsible for serving the guests that makes me curious as to which one of you is responsible for incapacitating my right hand man!" It was clear from Vaisey's tone that he was becoming increasingly irate.

"You sure he's not just a bit hungover?" Stubbins was still not having it.

"Yes. I'm sure." Vaisey gritted out, exasperated that he didn't seem to be getting anywhere with the man. "Look if I have to go over this again I'm going to get very upset so how about you just tell me who was serving myself and Gisborne last night and where I can find them."

"Well…" Stubbins was scratching his head and making a not particularly intelligent face as he thought about who'd been working the previous night, "there was a lot of people servin', it coulda been anyone really…"

Vaisey sighed. He hadn't really expected for the answer to fall into his lap so easily but still it would have been nice if it had. "Hmmm…. not really the answer I was looking for I'm afraid, how about we round up the troops then because if you can't tell me what I need to know then I'm going to have to talk to everybody aren't I?"

Stubbins gulped. He didn't like the sound of that at all. He was right to be worried for Vaisey was deadly serious.

Some might think that this was going a bit far to get to the bottom of the matter but Vaisey was prepared to do whatever it took.

Not for Gisborne, no, this wasn't for him, as unfortunate as it was that he was the victim in all this, Vaisey knew that Guy had not been the target nor would he go to such trouble to find the culprit if he had been. No, this was a failed attempt - the poison had been meant for another, Vaisey could feel it in his bones and had somebody been taking bets he would've put his money on Prince John being the one who should've copped it.

_That_ was the reason he was doing this. _That_ was the reason he had to find out who was behind this. First and foremost because the poisoner might try again and a dead Prince John would be a very bad thing for himself and all others who'd sworn their allegiance to him.

However, self-preservation was not the only reason to make enquiries. Vaisey would not be Vaisey if he could not see a way to benefit from this misfortune - he knew full well that Prince John would certainly be generous if he could uncover the plot and deliver the traitor. The royal wouldn't put him off with endless pathetic excuses if he did that now would he? He could just picture the rewards; finally, he would be getting to where he wanted to be, to where he _should_ be… and if the prince was in a particularly good mood, he might even get Sussex! Oh yes, it would be so sweet and all he had to do was find the amateur who'd poisoned Gisborne instead of the heir… he could do that, he was sure but first he had to deal with the servants…

Shouldn't be too difficult, he could be persuasive when he wanted to be…


	19. Chapter 19

XIX

"Don't you bloody dare!"

Betty would not allow it.

Sir Guy of Gisborne was dying on her and she was not having any of it. "I don't care how knackered y'are, there's a young lady comin' to visit you later and I'm not 'avin her come 'ere to find that you've snuffed it!"

Despite the gravity of the situation Jenkins couldn't help but smirk as he watched his assistant, she was slapping Guy in the face now, determined to keep him in the world of the living.

"And don't go thinkin' I'm above makin' you drink p*ss again! You keep this up and I'll fetch it, d'yer hear me?" She looked up at Jenkins and he could see that she was getting upset; they both hoped that Guy would pull through but despite all that had been done for him he just kept getting weaker. The saddest part was that now it seemed he would not live long enough for Francesca to see him one last time.

These were the thoughts running through his mind when lo and behold Francesca arrived. She apologized that she hadn't been able to get there sooner but her family had been a nightmare and she'd only been able to get away on some convoluted pretext. Jenkins and Betty didn't mind, they were both happy to see her even if they had nothing good to tell her.

"There you go lad, she's 'ere now so you can stop buggerin' about I reckon!" Betty said loudly to her patient before making room for the new arrival.

Francesca looked at the man she had been thinking of all day and was crestfallen.

He looked… dead.

"Is he…?" She whimpered.

"No love, but very nearly." Betty took her hand and squeezed gently.

Francesca thought she might faint. It was too much. Tears streamed down her face. She wanted to curl up and scream. He couldn't die, he couldn't, not after all they'd gone through, what would she do if she lost him now? The dark prospect overwhelmed her and she felt herself growing faint...

_ **You promised him you would sit with him.** _

It was this thought that pulled her out of it. She sighed deeply and then positioned herself next to Guy on the bed. She saw the cloth and the bowl of water on the bedside table and though it seemed pointless now, she thought she would cool his forehead with it.

"Hey, I promised you I'd come back didn't I?" Her voice was soft and she smiled down at him. She gently wiped his forehead with the cloth whilst entwining the fingers of her other hand with his. "How does that feel? I know you're not fond of the cloth but we've got to keep your temperature down."

She felt his hand twitch against hers.

She froze.

Her emotions seesawed wildly between shock, hope and awe. She looked up at Betty and Jenkins who were standing nearby.

"Somebody still with us?" Betty smiled.

"Yes, he's still here." Francesca replied grinning so large it practically hurt. She began to laugh. "He really doesn't like this cloth!"

Betty and Jenkins laughed with her.

She returned her gaze to Guy and squeezed his hand. _I'm going to keep at it. Can't have you slipping away now can we?_

* * *

In the darkest of hours, one wonders if there is any point to this life. If there is a deeper meaning behind the things that happen. If things were meant to be as they are or if there was anything we could have done to change the course of events.

Francesca was young and at eighteen summers old could hardly claim to know much about the fundamental questions of life but she had her beliefs, she had her hopes, she did the best she could with the life she'd been given and had gained some little knowledge in her short life that helped her get through when times were hard.

She needed all this and more whilst tending to Guy of Gisborne.

She did not understand many of the things that had happened to her: why God had allowed her mother to die… why she had been born a daughter and not the son her father had wanted… why despite her best efforts she was fated to eternally anger and disappoint him… why she had not been blessed with a more caring and understanding sister… why the only people who loved her lived far away in Devon… why the only man she had ever loved was now on the verge of death…

Did any of it have a point? Was this meant to be? Was there something she could've done to change the way things had turned out?

Her mother had once told her that all people and things in this world are connected and that everything happened for a reason. When she became ill and subsequently died, Francesca had found that very difficult to believe. What reason could there possibly be for that?

She missed her. She'd always had a way of explaining things so that Francesca could understand and her preferred way of doing that had been to tell a story. Francesca remembered those stories fondly especially the ones about animals and her favourite was undoubtedly the one about the horse who did not want to be tamed.

A farmer finds a horse; a beautiful stallion roaming free upon the moors and captures him in order to tame him so he can help on his farm. The horse resists with all his might. He cannot understand why he can no longer be free, why the farmer will not let him go, why this is happening to him. He cannot see how precarious the farmer's situation is, how poor he and his family are and what a difference it would make if he helped them. He does not know that the man means him no harm and that he and his family only wish to care for him in return for his service. He is not able to understand.

The farmer is patient. He doesn't give in. The stallion flinches away from him, bites and kicks and will not let him come near let alone saddle him.

For the longest time it is a battle of wills, the farmer does all he can to make the horse see that if only he would trust him, he and his family would be good to him, take care of him, make sure he wanted for nothing, alas, to no avail: the horse did not want to be tamed.

Then one day, just as the farmer thinks about giving up, the horse begins to trust him. It is a long road from the first time the horse lets him approach him to the day he can guide the animal out to his fields but the farmer doesn't rush, he knows that there is no reasoning with a horse, that patience and persistence are his only allies on this one.

In the meantime, he makes sure to reward the horse for every step in the right direction and under his watchful gaze, his family do the same. He knows his reward will come later and will be very much worth it.

Of course, the horse went on to prove the farmer right just as the farmer knew he would. He became a faithful worker, strong and true and a blessing in ways he would never know.

A horse cannot understand the innumerable ways in which things are better because of him. How thankful a farmer is to have him. The happiness he brings to a family.

A horse cannot understand any of this but a farmer can.

Perhaps his life would have been better had he remained free but that is something that no one can know. As it was, he became a much loved family member. The farm thrived. The farmer's children grew and prospered. Eventually, the horse was surrounded by companions for the farmer had become wealthy enough to purchase more horses. The stallion went on to live a long and contented life.

He never looked back.

Francesca tried to think of the horse when she found herself feeling lost and couldn't see the point of it all. We humans are lucky to have the power to understand what is happening to us but sometimes we are not so very different from horses. Just because we have the power to understand doesn't mean we always do.

But what of Francesca's life? There had been no kindly farmer for her had there?

No there hadn't and she found it hard to understand why she had to endure her family and the difficulties in her life but just as with the horse perhaps there was a reason behind the things that happened and she just couldn't see it.

Maybe the time would come when she finally knew enough to understand…

or maybe not.

Maybe it was not for her to know.

In all that happens to us we wonder why but is it really so terrible to not have all the answers? The horse was a godsend to the farmer and his family, he didn't know it but he was and maybe that's the point - that even if we don't see it, maybe all that matters is to just _be there_ because who knows what that might someday mean to somebody?

We might not think there is much point in our being or that the things we say and do are worth much but how can we truly know what we are worth to others? Or what we might someday be worth to others?

As she sat with Guy not much made sense. She could not find reason or meaning.

That was ok. She would just be there for him for however long he needed her to be…

and if that had been the point of her life then that was fine by her.

* * *

"What 'ave you got there?" Stubbins eyed his colleague curiously.

"What does it look like?" Cochran replied taking a copious swig from the bottle in his hand and wincing at the aftertaste.

"No!" Stubbin's eyes widened in shock but then he burst out laughing, "Don't tell me yer on the p*ss again?!"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures my friend." Cochran smirked.

"Is this coz we're short?"

"Aye, his lordship said I had to round up everyone and err… yeah as you can see I've not quite managed it."

To be fair Cochran had done his best but the pitiful turnout could be attributed to the fact that he'd not been the only one on the wine the previous evening. Added to that, there'd been a walkout which meant that one of their number was long gone by now.

"Jesus. He's not gonna be happy… Gimme some of that will yer?" Alcohol suddenly seemed like an attractive coping strategy to Stubbins as well.

Cochran obliged and passed him the bottle. He'd already told Vaisey of the difficulties and the lord had been decidedly unsympathetic, threatening to have him strung up if he didn't get the job done. Cochran took the bottle back and finished it off; he figured if he was going to have to peg it for this then he might as well be going out in style.

Vaisey arrived. He took one look at the assembled party of servants and knew the deal straight away. "I said everybody! This is obviously not everybody!" The gritting of his teeth was audible.

Cochran shrunk into himself; the nobleman had only just got there and was on the verge of a temper tantrum already.

"I beg yer pardon milord but what is this all about?" Milly, one of the serving wenches, interrupted. She had a youngster balanced on one hip and two boys chasing each other round her skirts. She was understandably keen to get out of there.

"This my dear, is about who was serving myself and Sir Guy of Gisborne yesterday evening."

"Good lord, how should we know? There were loads of people comin' and goin' last night!" Eileen, an older servant remarked, unafraid to address the elephant in the room here.

Vaisey frowned at her but did not have a chance to reply for one of the servants shouted, "Whatever it was, Bob did it!"

Laughter ensued.

Vaisey frowned harder; he didn't get the joke. "And who might be Bob?" He directed his question at Cochran.

"He's not here. Strange fella. Threw in the towel last night. Didn't even wait to be paid…" Cochran replied with a shrug.

"Aye I wondered 'bout that! Who's so daft as to bugger off without takin' pay first?" Stubbins interrupted chuckling.

"I heard about that an' all!" Milly chipped in, pausing briefly to give one of her boys a small cuff to the back of the head, "Did he not say anything?"

"Nah, just said he had to go and then that was it."

A small concert of muttering broke out amongst the ranks and Vaisey would normally have been irritated by this interruption but he found this detail very interesting indeed.

"Just left you say?" Vaisey stared at Cochran, making him nervous. He was about to nod when Simmons spoke:

"Do you know I think it was Bob who was serving you actually?"

Vaisey turned to face Simmons and fixed him with a look so intense it could probably make a man soil himself. "Really? And you would know this how exactly?"

"I serve Prince John. I also taste all that he eats and drinks."

Of course! Vaisey could've slapped himself. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? If someone wants to poison the prince, they have to get past this man first. He looked at Simmons and a wide grin spread over his face, this was good, very good.

"Well my man, how about you and I have a little chat and you can fill me in on this Bob fellow?"


	20. Chapter 20

XX

"What is he saying?"

Betty was about to go home for some much needed rest. She was gathering up her things when she noticed that Guy had gone from being as silent and unmovable as the dead to feverous, delirious and talkative_._

Francesca was sitting beside him and had a better chance of hearing him but could not make out what he said for his voice was barely a whisper. For a moment there was silence as both strained to hear him.

"Well, he'll not be asking for any more wine that's for sure!" Lord Vaisey quipped as he entered the room startling all as he did so.

None of Guy's carers found the joke funny.

"Too soon?"

The dirty looks being directed at him from all sides answered his question. Vaisey shrugged their angry reactions off, thoroughly unbothered. He was in a good mood this evening: Simmons had been most helpful in answering his questions, so although the poisoner had gotten away, Vaisey had a few promising leads in the search and was confident he would find the culprit.

Betty had never liked Lord Vaisey and so departed forthwith. Jenkins, who felt much the same, kept his head down and busied himself with menial tasks. Francesca let go of Guy's hand but moved a little closer to him, feeling protective. Vaisey noticed this and it brought a sly smile to his lips.

"Good evening Lady Francesca, I was not aware that my right hand man was currently receiving visitors." Vaisey feigned surprise but wasn't in the least surprised to find her there.

"Good evening Lord Vaisey, I merely wished to check on Sir Guy, he took quite a fall yesterday evening." She kept her tone even but was nervous, her father had forbidden her to come here and Vaisey could betray her now.

"Yes, I hope there's no permanent damage done…" Vaisey was stalking along the other side of the bed, coming ever closer towards the stricken man upon it, "it would be a shame would it not if such a pretty face were to become scarred?" He punctuated the sentence by sliding his fingers over Guy's jaw, cupping his head in his hand and rubbing his thumb against his cheek. Francesca narrowed her eyes suspiciously at this comment, unsure of what disturbed her more; the way he at the spoke about Guy or how he touched him.

Guy stirred; he had been tossing and turning for some time, restless and murmuring. Francesca wanted to pull him towards her and out of Vaisey's grasp; she refrained from doing so but was happy to see the older man back off a few moments later to turn his attention to the other person in the room.

"How is the patient faring Jenkins? Can I expect him back in my service soon?"

"It's difficult to say. He's been very ill and is still in a bad way but as you can see, it's an improvement on this morning."

"And are you still going on about this poison nonsense?"

Francesca turned her head sharply; there was nothing nonsensical about it.

"Ah, you believe it too do you?" Despite what Vaisey privately believed on the matter, or what he'd learned from his enquiries, he was not about to admit to what he knew.

Francesca answered him with a question of her own: "You do not believe he was poisoned?"

"Well it's an interesting theory but a bit far-fetched for my liking." Vaisey smirked as if they were discussing something amusing.

Francesca's disbelieving glare said it all. "Far-fetched?"

"Yes. Far-fetched. So far-fetched in fact, that most people would think you mad for believing it." Vaisey moved slowly towards her as he spoke, his voice low and sinister, "and I don't think you would want people thinking you mad would you?" He was close now and were it not for the bed behind her and the man upon it, Francesca would be backing away from him and getting out of there.

"T'is not pleasant to be thought mad I should imagine, it attracts unwanted attention… your father wouldn't like it… and I would hate for you to get into trouble with your father because of Gisborne…" He paused to let this sink in and Francesca nodded; she understood him perfectly. "I said as much to Jenkins here this morning…" he turned his gaze to the healer and saw him nod as well, "he simply isn't worth it I'm afraid."

He then left the room as swiftly as he'd entered it; satisfied his work was done here. He was not naïve enough to think that he could stop them from thinking whatever they chose to concerning Guy's condition but just as with the servants, he could deter them from talking about it for now. The truth would out in the end he knew, but he wanted the matter cleared up by himself by the time things had gotten that far.

* * *

The second night was as long as the first.

Guy spent most of it in delirium with only brief moments where he seemed aware of his surroundings. Francesca stayed with him. She realised that she was in danger of being found out: Vaisey could tell her father that he'd seen her with Guy but her gut told her he would not. He had her over a barrel and would not go changing that for the moment, she had a feeling that he liked it that way. She had not spent much time with the man nor had she wanted to, but she had seen enough to know that he liked to toy with people and the way he relished tormenting Guy in particular troubled her greatly.

_What would it be like to serve such a man? What would one have to do in his name?_

As she sat with Guy, tending to him as best she could, she had time enough to think on such things and wonder at how Guy had come to put his life in the hands of Lord Vaisey.

_He must not have had a choice. Nobody would choose to serve such a one surely?_

She was frequently interrupted in her musings by Guy who suffered on and on, firmly in the grip of a terrible fever, sweating, writhing, murmuring and moaning in the tangled bedsheets. Jenkins had tried to bleed him several times and yet he wouldn't keep still no matter how much Francesca tried to calm him. It was after another aborted attempt that she decided to try something different.

She walked to the other side of the bed, climbed on to it and lay beside him. She was not sure how he might react to this and was aware that she was taking liberties in doing it but she had truly no intent other than trying to calm him down. She kept her distance and watched him closely, prepared to move away at the slightest sign of discomfort from him but much to her relief Guy seemed to relax a little. Then very slowly, she edged closer to him and took his hand in hers, squeezing gently to distract him as Jenkins prepared his other arm for bloodletting. Much to the surprise of his carers Guy did not struggle. Both shared a smile, happy for another breakthrough - Guy was a tough patient but had his good moments.

It wasn't long however before he began to stir again and so Jenkins moved quickly to bind the wound and take the bowl away not wanting to end up with blood all over the sheets. Francesca whispered to Guy all the while: "Shhhh… It's alright… we're just looking after you that's all… don't you worry now, we'll get you better just you see…"

Guy rolled to his side, towards the source of the gentle soothing words, squeezing her hand tightly. As she then saw his lips move, she stopped speaking in order to listen to him.

"Please…"

She strained to hear him, trying to catch what it was he was pleading for but he only repeated the one word;

"Please…"

She frowned in puzzlement but then he made it clear what he needed…

He pulled her close, startling her with his strength and she heard herself give out a little "oh!" in surprise before finding her arms full of him. He shivered and pulled her even closer causing her eyes to widen in alarm, his hands were at the small of her back; his face in the crook of her neck, he was murmuring nonsense words against her shoulder and Francesca could do nothing – so shocked was she.

One of her arms was pinned beneath his side and the other flailed helplessly; for the life of her she didn't know what to do with it so she just let it drop to the side which just happened to be where his hip was. She had no time to think about that though for Guy nuzzled into her, which caused her to gasp and her eyes to grow even wider.

She looked over Guy's shoulder to see a very alarmed Jenkins nearby; he sprinted over to the bed and was just about to pull Guy off her when suddenly Francesca held a hand up to stop him. He was speaking to her:

"Maman…"

_Wait..._

_Did he just say what I thought he did?_

He said it again and the penny dropped. _Yes, of course._ What else could it be?

He thought she was his mother.

Jenkins was still hovering beside the bed, ready to move any second but Francesca shook her head. She placed her hand on Guy's back and began to rub soothingly.

"It's alright… shhh… it's alright." She whispered the words over and over to put both men at ease. Jenkins nodded; still feeling somewhat uneasy but satisfied that should Francesca need him to intervene, she would let him know. He kept an eye on Guy all the same.

Guy relaxed in Francesca's arms and sunk into a fitful doze. Francesca was tired but could not sleep. In fact, she doubted she had ever felt so awake. Hyper awake. Hyper aware. Of him. Of his every move. Of every puff of breath she felt against her neck. Of every sound from his lips. Of how his hair smelt. Of how his chest rose and fell against her.

_God, if I could have this…_

_Shutupshutupshutup..._

It was torture.

Her body reacted, savouring his warmth, his weight, his scent… and her head careened wildly from wishful thinking to self-chastisement.

_ **This is not real** _ _. He doesn't know what he is doing… and here's you… lapping it up… you are unreal do you know that?_

Yet part of her wanted to let herself, to indulge, to _feel_ it.

_When will you ever get to do this again? _

The answer was never. She knew that if he came through this he would come to his senses and they would be back to being… _What? What will you be? What are you exactly?_ _Friends? Acquaintances?_

Her heart sank. She chastised herself again. _You have no right to hope for anything more so you can stop that right now._

And so it went on and on, the seesawing of her head and her heart.

It was a long night indeed.

* * *

Betty arrived before dawn just as she had the day before. Her eyebrows shot up to the heavens upon being confronted by the sight of the knight and the girl curled up together sleeping like babes.

She looked over at Jenkins who was snoring in the chair and wondered that he had allowed this. It was not that she was against the match; any fool with eyes in their head could see that Francesca cared deeply for Sir Guy but what worried her was that practically anybody could've strolled in to find the pair like this. What if her father had caught them? She couldn't imagine that he would be too thrilled to find his daughter and Sir Guy lying together as close as lovers… and what of the cousin? She would probably be here any minute to fetch Francesca, what would she think of her unmarried cousin snuggling up to the man?

No, it wouldn't do. So as cruel as it was to separate them, she decided she must, for it was just too risky and she wouldn't have a ruckus on her watch. She gently shook Francesca's shoulder and the girl awoke as slowly and contentedly as a kitten.

"So that's how you get 'im to be so good for yer is it?" Betty accompanied the question with an indulgent smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"Oh!" Francesca realised where she was and what it looked like in the same instant. She jolted and scrambled to sit up. Guy murmured but didn't wake, he merely crushed her tighter to him. Francesca was as shocked as she had been hours earlier, the first time he'd pulled her close.

"Aye, you might well look surprised but not half as surprised as I was I can tell yer and not anywhere near as surprised as yer family would be had they got an eyeful of this instead o' me!"

Francesca blushed and bowed her head. She understood. Guy, who now had his head upon Francesca's belly, did not: he nuzzled against her.

Francesca could've cried. She had never wanted anything so much whilst simultaneously knowing it was wrong to want it. Betty could understand her conflict, she smiled sympathetically but had to stay firm on this one. "Come now love, yer cousin will be here shortly, we don't want her getting' upset wi' you do we?"

Jenkins was awake now, looking sheepish. He didn't say anything but one look from Betty was enough to spur him into action, pulling Guy off the girl. Guy whimpered but didn't wake, Francesca pushed the pile of pillows beneath him so that he would be comfortable.

"That's it lad, I know yer fond of her but we can't be gettin' her into trouble with her family now can we?" Betty soothed the patient who was looking better than when she'd last seen him: still feverous but at least able to rest a little.

"He thinks I am his mother." Francesca stammered awkwardly, feeling compelled to explain herself.

Betty looked at the girl and could see how much this was taking it's toll on her.

"Come on love, you come wi' me outside for a bit, you look as if you could do wi' some fresh air."

Francesca didn't resist. She knew why Betty wanted to speak to her and was sure that what she had to say couldn't be any worse than what she'd already said to herself.


	21. Chapter 21

XXI

"How do I look?"

Francesca was sitting in her bedchamber thinking on all that Betty had said to her as Natalia breezed into the room and gave her a twirl.

She looked stunning as always, dressed in a new gown that was all that was fashionable and expensive. Francesca gave her a smile, it wasn't much of one but it was the best she could do in the circumstances.

"You look lovely sister, is today a special occasion?"

"We have an audience with Prince John silly!"

Francesca froze. _Oh God no. That's all I need._

Natalia danced and pranced around the room like an overexcited child whilst Francesca's stomach lurched in dread.

She had been wondering if things could get any worse and now they had. As if it wasn't bad enough that she was in love with a man who in the throes of illness thought she was his mother and would certainly feel differently about the matter as soon as he became well again, (something Betty had painfully spelled out to her, not that she'd needed it), now she was going to have to spend time in the presence of a man she loathed who was possibly responsible for the poisoning of aforementioned man she loved.

"Do you think he will like my dress?" Natalia asked and Francesca wished her life could be as uncomplicated as Natalia's and that her greatest concern could be whether her dress was pleasing or not.

"I am sure he will love it." She replied, trying to muster as much enthusiasm as she could. All this talk of dresses reminded her that it was time to see to her own so she dragged herself up from her bed to make herself presentable. Whatever she might think of Prince John, he was royalty and custom dictated she couldn't turn up to see him looking like a bedraggled mess.

"What are you doing?" Natalia asked frowning.

"What does it look like?" Francesca gestured to her clothes to indicate her intentions.

"You need not bother Fran, you're not coming."

"I'm not?"

"No. You're not. Father said."

_Dear God, did I ever tell you how wonderful you are!? Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou!_

"Oh really? Well, err… that is a shame." Francesca was a terrible actor and anybody who'd been paying attention could've seen that she was obviously not upset about this decision but Natalia's attention was taken up with her own concerns, which this morning consisted of her attire and her appearance so she didn't notice.

"Yes, father said you're not fit to be seen, that you're neither use nor ornament and we can't have you sulking about Gisborne in front of the prince."

_Did he now? Well that's just fine and dandy with me. Perhaps I should 'sulk' more often if it means that I don't have to bother with lecherous men or watch you two fawning over one such man._

Then she realised that this not only meant that she did not have to see the prince it also meant that she was free of her family for a while.

_I shall go to him. _

Her joy was tempered however, upon recalling what Betty had said;_ Be careful love. I know you want to help him get better but be careful._

_Oh Betty, can you not see it is already too late?_

"What are you thinking of?"

Francesca was surprised by this question for it was a most unusual one coming from her sister. She stared at Natalia preening in the mirror and as she was in buoyant mood now that she was to be spared the trial of facing the prince, she decided she would use the opportunity to discuss something she had been curious about for quite some time;

"I am wondering why you would want to be with Prince John."

Natalia looked at her as if she was daft. "He is prince!"

"Yes, I know that but what I am wondering is why _you_ of all people would want to be with a married man, why you would wish to settle for being a mistress, why you would want to be with somebody whose affections are not reserved for you alone."

Natalia was silent a moment, considering all she had just said and Francesca thought that for once in her life she and her sister might be on the same level of thinking.

Alas, they were not.

"It wouldn't be like that." Natalia declared as if she knew something Francesca didn't.

Francesca frowned in puzzlement, not able to follow her. "It wouldn't?"

"It would be different with me."

"Different? He is married, how would it…?"

Natalia sniffed. "He would set his wife aside for me."

Francesca was incredulous. _You really think that? No… You can't seriously think that he would just set his wife and all others aside for you? _

She continued staring wide-eyed at her sister and Natalia merely nodded as if it were self-evident.

_God, your vanity knows no limits does it? You think you are that special? How can you be so naïve?_

She had always suspected that someday the nonsense with which her father had filled Natalia's head would cause her to live in a fantasy world but this well, this was quite something.

"Are you really prepared to gamble your future happiness on that?" Francesca asked, wondering if she had thought this through. "I mean just think about it for a second Natalia - our father has devoted his entire life to you, do you think that Prince John, as regent and perhaps someday king, with all that goes with it, could honestly do the same?"

The look on Natalia's face suggested that she thought he could.

Francesca wondered why she bothered.

Perhaps it was because despite all that had happened between herself and her sister over the years, she could not bring herself to hate her, not really. She didn't much like her but she didn't hate her. She hated how her father had made her but had long since recognised that Natalia could never have been any other way having lived the life she had lived and so although she often despaired at having such a sister she could never really wish her ill.

"You must forgive me, I know it is not my business but I worry for I simply cannot imagine that you would be happy with a man you would have to share. Perhaps you are right, perhaps he will put all others aside for you and all will turn out as you hope but what about the ruling of this country and all that entails? Do you think you would be able to love a man whom you must share with all England?"

As Natalia smiled and nodded the affirmative, Francesca sighed in defeat.

Surprisingly, Natalia picked up on this, "Come sister, do not be so serious! All will be well you'll see!"

_I wish I had your optimism Natalia, I really do. _

Francesca forced a smile. How often had she talked with her sister like this and been astonished at how differently they saw the world? Yet all was well with Natalia, as it always had been and so perhaps she should take her advice and not be so serious. After all, no matter what happened, her elder sister would always have the devotion of their father to fall back on. Yes, she would let it go, her heart was full enough with her own concerns, she would leave Natalia be and let the future unfold as it would. She was not sorry to have spoken though, no matter that on this subject, as with so many others, they would not see eye to eye.

Little did either of them know that the seed of doubt had been planted.

* * *

"Lord Colchester, good to see you! How are you and your lady wife?"

Vaisey bit back a grin as he noticed the lord looking past him. He knew exactly who he was looking for.

"We're fine, thank you Lord Vaisey, good to see you too… is err… Sir Guy not with you?"

Vaisey wanted nothing more than to laugh out loud; people were so predictable and Lord Henry of Colchester more than most.

"No, he's indisposed at present, had himself a fall the other day and he's still a bit… delicate. T'is a shame for I'm sure he'd liked to have seen you."

The last part was a barefaced lie; Guy detested Colchester, probably because the lord couldn't keep his eyes off him and behaved like a lovesick sap whenever he was around. It amused Vaisey no end and he wished that Gisborne could've been there to see his admirer so concerned for his welfare.

As Colchester was babbling on about how it was indeed a great shame that the knight could not be present and how he hoped his injuries were not too grave, Vaisey spied his wife chatting with a group of ladies nearby. She was attractive, even Vaisey could see that, but there were however two major obstacles to marital bliss with her husband:

1\. She was a woman

and...

2\. She was not Sir Guy of Gisborne.

As amusing as this all was to Vaisey, he was not there for pleasure and so after feeding Colchester a few titbits of information about Gisborne he steered the conversation towards business,

"I am looking for a former servant of yours, goes by the name of Bob and had up until recently been working here at court serving drinks."

Simmons had advised Vaisey to speak with Bob's closest friend amongst the servants who in turn had given him the tip about Colchester - apparently Bob had mentioned that he'd worked for the nobleman before his most recent work as servant/poisoner in the royal household.

This had puzzled Vaisey exceedingly. Colchester would never harm a hair on Gisborne's head. Nor would he ever want anything to happen to Prince John, for he, like so many others at court, had much invested in John as future king and much to lose if it didn't happen. Added to that, Vaisey doubted that the man had it in him to orchestrate such an elaborate plot nor the stomach to see it through - no, Lord Colchester might be many things but a schemer he was not.

So what to do? Well, the only option left was to continue gathering information about Bob in the hopes of locating him and maybe then all would become clear. Questioning Colchester was as good a way to do that as any. That was the plan anyway…

"A servant called Bob you say? Hmm… no I'm afraid I don't recall anybody of that name. Worked here too? No, I haven't seen any of our lot here."

Vaisey pursed his lips tightly in a grimace of disappointment and cursed himself for thinking that it could've been so easy. He supposed he could at least be thankful that the nobleman spent most of his time at court; a pointless trip to Colchester would've made things even worse.

"But if you'll give me a moment my lord, I will ask my wife; she runs our household and knows who's coming and going."

As Vaisey then saw the lady shaking her head, he knew that he'd come to a dead end. He clenched his fists tightly, wishing he could take out his frustration on someone, preferably Gisborne. _No, it wouldn't be much fun what with him laid up all pathetic and sickly… _

"I'm sorry Lord Vaisey, I can't help you there, neither of us has heard of him. Why are you looking for him anyway? What has the fellow been getting up to?" Colchester didn't say as much but he was thinking that he wouldn't wish to trade places with Bob for all the money in the world.

Vaisey was about to give some vague uninformative answer along the lines of official business, can't disclose details or some such nonsense when a fellow courtier interrupted their conversation to speak to Colchester.

"Pardon the intrusion Lord Winchester but I have been meaning to introduce myself for quite some time, I am Sir Rupert of…"

Vaisey didn't hear the rest.

He knew what had happened.

He had found exactly that which he'd been searching for.

The hustle and bustle of court life continued around him but he was oblivious. The final piece of the puzzle slotted into place and now it all made sense.

"Is everything alright Lord Vaisey?" Colchester had just finished explaining to Sir Rupert that he was not Lord Winchester but in fact Lord Colchester and was perturbed to see Vaisey frowning. He hoped he had not angered him by being unable to help him find the man he was looking for.

"Yes… everything's fine…" Vaisey was still deep in thought but then his head jerked up and he fixed Colchester with an intense gaze, "Tell me, do people often mistake you for Lord Winchester?"

Colchester nodded. "Yes, it's the name you see; Colchester, Winchester – people get the two mixed up…"

Vaisey could've slapped himself.

_Of course! _

_I should've known… _

_Not Colchester… _ _ **WINCHESTER.** _

_oh........_

As the implications of this dawned upon him, all satisfaction at having discovered the truth gave way to anger of a deeply disturbing nature, the likes of which he'd not felt in years.

** _I will kill him. _ **

** _I will kill them both._ **

This had never been about Prince John.

It had been about him and Winchester and it had almost cost him his life.

_Almost..._

Vaisey breathed deeply, taking air into his lungs in a huge sigh of relief, as only a man could who knew he'd escaped death and knew what he had to do. He basked in the feeling a moment longer before it gave way to dark amusement as he reflected upon the blundering of his enemies;

_That idiot Willy used the next best alias for his former employer…_

_As bad at covering his tracks as he was in poisoning me..._

_Oh my turncoat friend you are in a world of trouble… _

** _You better hope that I don't find you._**

As Vaisey swore revenge on Willy/Bob the poisoner and his master and pondered upon the ways in which he was going to murder them both, Colchester continued rambling; "…at least I hope it's because of the name, I don't think I should like it if people think we're similar in other ways, Winchester is a terrible letch you know whereas I…"

Vaisey laughed loudly and ordered the servants to bring them some wine, he could think of dozens of lewd ways to finish that sentence for Colchester but he would refrain, instead he would sup with the man for he had been most helpful this day and if Sir Rupert wished to join them, then that was fine by him too.


	22. Chapter 22

XXII

"Did you forget something love?"

Betty was not used to seeing Francesca so early - it went against their usual routine: Betty looked after Guy throughout the day and Francesca took over at night. Jenkins came and went for although Guy was his most serious patient, he was not his only patient.

"No Betty, my father and Natalia have an audience with Prince John and I thought I would come check on Sir Guy whilst the coast was clear."

Betty was about to say something along the lines of how she should be careful not to risk her father's wrath by visiting during the daytime but the shocked look upon Francesca's face stopped her from doing so.

The reason for her shock swiftly became apparent; Guy was awake.

The older woman was just as surprised as Francesca was, but this quickly gave way to unease because the knight was staring at the girl and she was staring right back. Betty was unsure what to do, thinking once more of Francesca's growing attachment to Guy despite having no formal arrangement with him but figured she had done her fair share this day - had said all she wanted to say on the subject and now it was time to let her be and hope that she would heed her words. At any rate, she left them both to it shortly afterwards to go see if Jenkins required her assistance with another patient.

Francesca slowly moved towards the bed and Guy followed her with his eyes all the way. She had to admit he wasn't looking great: his hair was sweaty and plastered to his head, the swelling on his face had receded slightly but the bruises and cuts bloomed dark and ugly, his skin was a better colour than it had been but still retained a sickly hue, indeed, he looked for all the world as if he'd gone twelve rounds with the devil in the depths of hell but none of this mattered to her because for the first time since this had happened she had a feeling he was going to come through this.

"Good Morning." She said softly as she sat down upon the bed, checking the urge to take his hand for it was difficult to tell how _with it_ he was so-to-speak nor how he would react to her touch. They had been through the full spectrum of emotions throughout his illness and Francesca had learned to expect everything from him.

"How long…?" His voice was deep and rough from disuse, his hand came up to his throat, it was obviously painful for him to speak.

"Two nights now." She paused to let him digest this and he looked shocked.

_Yes, they were the longest two nights of my life as well._

"How are you feeling?"

"Terrible."

Francesca smiled but felt tears welling in her eyes, he could have no idea how overjoyed she was to be able to speak with him like this. It was so wonderfully normal she could hardly bear it.

She didn't want him to see her in tears so she turned away to get him something to drink, "how about some water?" She asked taking care to keep the goblet out of reach. He surprised her by nodding his assent. "You're sure? You're not going to throw this at me are you?" She gave him a stern look but one eyebrow was raised playfully.

He frowned in confusion. "Did I…?"

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head and looked at her apologetically.

"It's alright." She shuffled forward to help him sit up and then held the goblet to his lips. "You weren't yourself." She said softly as he sipped the water. He winced as he swallowed and she wasn't surprised for his throat must still be red raw from being sick.

"I've brought some honey, it will help soothe your throat." She moved from the bed to fetch it but was stopped in her tracks by the sound of his voice.

"Francesca?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed once more by her feelings. It was heavenly to hear him say her name.

"What happened?" He croaked and she could see he was becoming agitated because he couldn't speak properly.

"Shhh, it's alright, don't speak now. I will tell you what happened but first we have to see to your throat ok?"

He nodded and then she sat down beside him on the bed once more. As she concentrated on the task in hand and slowly brought a spoon of honey to his lips, he gently placed one hand upon her wrist. For a second she thought he didn't want it but then as she looked at his face she could see that wasn't it; his eyes were full of an emotion she could not quite read…

"Thank you."

His thumb stroked her wrist to complement his words, and then a small smile appeared at the corner of his lips before he accepted the sweet offering.

Francesca closed her eyes. She was going to be struggling with tears a lot this day.

* * *

"Mi'lady I'm sorry to interrupt but yer father is lookin' for yer."

Joseph had run as fast as he could and was thoroughly out of breath by the time he reached Guy's chambers. He had his wife in tow, ready to take over from Francesca once more.

"He can't be; he has an audience with Prince John." Francesca protested.

"The prince fobbed him off." Joseph explained and Francesca cursed her own stupidity, Prince John was renowned for changing his mind at the drop of a hat.

"Where is he now?" Francesca brought a hand up to her face and rubbed her forehead nervously.

"Yer cousin is keepin' him occupied, I said yer helpin' my missus with somethin' and I'd go fetch you."

"Thank you so much Joseph, I don't know what I would do without you and Betty." Francesca smiled sweetly at the pair in question as she said this; Betty took the compliment with a grin and Joseph with a blush.

"Come mi'lady, you best be coming with me now - we don't want yer father yellin' and gettin' angry at everybody do we?" Joseph didn't much like to take her away but it had to be done.

Oho. There were the tears again. Francesca tried so hard to keep them at bay, keeping her eyes firmly closed but they were threatening to fall and then as she felt Guy's hand soft upon her wrist she couldn't help it anymore.

"I'm sorry." Her voice broke now and she angled her body away from him so that he couldn't see her so overcome but she felt him shuffling behind her to sit up and could feel his breath upon her neck.

"Shhh, it's alright…"

A hand gently curled around her shoulder and she could feel him warm and solid behind her. She brought her hand up and for a moment let her fingers brush against his but then she forced herself to move away because otherwise she would lean back into him and then she would be really done for.

She blinked away her tears, turned to face him and was about to say the words when much to her surprise he said them for her:

"You'll come back?"

She didn't have to say anything, her face said it all.

* * *

"He kept us waiting for over an hour!"

Lord Cavendish was seething.

Francesca kept her head down and listened to him vent his fury.

"Then you go swanning off to God knows where! Do you not think we've better things to do?"

Francesca bit back a smirk. She knew full well they didn't have anything better to do.

"Sorry father, I got talking with Betty and…"

"I don't want to know! Why would I want to know about that?"

_That's fine by me, I don't have any urge to elaborate on a lie so yes, by all means carry on with your rant._

"Perhaps he had important business father?" Natalia offered.

Francesca was fascinated to observe her sister on the receiving end of a snub for once. She was handling it well so far. Denial worked wonders she supposed.

"What could be more important than us?"

Francesca tried not to cringe, _that _was exactly the kind of nonsense that had gotten Natalia so full of herself in the first place.

"Perhaps Lord Vaisey knows what has kept him detained." It was a good idea from Natalia; Vaisey was always well informed.

"Vaisey is away visiting a good friend. He said he'd be back in a few days."

_A good friend? What about Guy? How can he leave him like that?_ _Does he care at all for him?_

Once more Francesca's mind boggled at the relationship between the lord and his knight. These past few days Vaisey had scarcely bothered with Guy, only interested in when his servant would be recovered enough to serve him but there had been times in the past when she had noticed a certain fondness between the two, manifested in a knowing look or a shared amusement at something someone had said for example. Their handling of one another spoke of a longstanding arrangement and their communication often took place without words which suggested that Guy was more to Vaisey than just some lackey but then more often than not, Vaisey would go and spoil it by treating the younger man in exactly that way, belittling him in front of others, reminding him of his low position, giving him demeaning jobs to do and most frequently of all, making him the butt of his jokes.

Francesca doubted that this would ever change. Not even Guy's near demise seemed to have had an impact on Vaisey; it was business as usual for him, places to be, friends to meet and Francesca worried at how much of a recovery Guy would have with such a master. Yes, he had come through the worst but the last thing he needed was to be back at Vaisey's beck and call.

_It's not so bad that he is away, at least Guy will have some peace. _

On top of that, she would be spared the worry of Vaisey telling her father that he'd seen her visiting Guy, so there was that small mercy to be thankful for (for a few days at least).

Now all she had to do was deal with her family.

"I don't care if he is prince! One doesn't make people wait for over an hour! What is the world coming to?"

Francesca sighed. Nothing could ever be easy could it?

* * *

"Tell me Cochran, do you ever have trouble with the fairer sex?"

Cochran groaned silently and quelled the urge to smash his head against the tray he was holding. He wondered if it was too late for a career change. Damn Simmons, why did he have be so inconsiderate getting himself ill with the flu? Now he'd been called in to serve Prince John and God knows there was nothing he enjoyed less.

"Err, can't say that I do your Highness."

The prince sighed overdramatically, "I don't think I shall ever understand women…"

Cochran groaned audibly this time but quickly disguised it with a cough.

"They tease you with their innocent ways but secretly they know exactly what they are doing…" the prince paused; expecting a response from Cochran, alas to no avail for the servant had no idea what he was talking about, he was having a hard enough time as it was pretending to be interested in the conversation.

"Yes, they toy with us you know, get us interested only to play coy when it comes down to business."

Cochran was baffled - he hadn't seen anyone play coy with Prince John lately, indeed, there had been a girl and her father all too eager to visit him that very morning but the regent made him send them away with the usual excuses.

"But they can be so loyal too, so unswerving in their affections… such strength of character is admirable don't you think?"

The servant was completely lost now. He wondered if he was good enough of an actor to fake a sudden bout of flu.

"If only I could convince her…"

Cochran frowned and hoped it made him look as if he was deep in thought on the subject. In reality, there was only one thing he was deep in thought about and that was how he could get the hell out of there.

"Perhaps I will get Vaisey to speak with Cavendish, arrange a meeting…"

_Cavendish!? _

_Hang on a minute! _

_Weren't that him this morning!? The daughter as well… _

_He didn't want to see them! Got me to send 'em away! _

_Ehh?!_

_He can't mean the same one surely? _

_Nah he must be thinking of somebody else, probably got his girls mixed up, not surprising really what with him havin' a whole bevy of 'em on the go… Either that or he's going senile…_

The Prince nodded decidedly. "Yes, that's it. Go fetch Vaisey; he'll no more want her with his lieutenant than I will."

_Lieutenant? Wait... isn't that the bloke who got poisoned?... apparently… or maybe just drunk after all!? _

_I can't keep up with this._

"Well, what are you waiting for? You have your orders!" The Prince barked before shooing him off.

Cochran groaned. Simmons owed him big time for this one.


	23. Chapter 23

XXIII

Francesca was glad when the day was over.

She had spent the daylight hours humouring her father and sister and the evening talking with her cousin and Sir Thomas. The latter had been a chance to inform her cousin that Guy was doing much better but despite the good news, it had not been a light-hearted chat. The conversation had gone much the same way as it had with Betty and the warning had been the very same: she was doing too much and needed to be careful.

It was true that she hardly knew Guy. She could not dispute that. Yet these past nights she'd snuck out to tend to him, watch over him, sit with him… she'd let him hold her hand and lie in her arms… She knew it was a lot coming from someone who had no ties to him but what should she have done? Said "sorry I can't"? He lay dying. There is no "sorry I can't" when it comes to life and death.

Of course now that he was getting better she didn't have that excuse anymore as Sir Thomas was quick to remind her: "Perhaps it would be better now to leave other people to tend to him."

He meant well but she wouldn't hear of it. "I promised him."

"Why did you do that?" Lydia protested.

_You know why._

Lydia did know why, Francesca was sure of it but was not about to spell it out for her.

"He has no one."

"He has Betty and Jenkins."

"It is not the same and you know it." Francesca was not belittling their efforts, no, they had done an excellent job of looking after him but she was in no doubt that her being there for Guy had helped him in ways that they could not.

Lydia sighed. She knew exactly what Francesca meant. "I worry for you. No woman would do half so much for her betrothed let alone a man who had been kind to her on occasion…"

"I know… I know. It's all on me I know… and if he tells me to go I will."

Lydia nodded, she knew her cousin would never stay where she was not wanted but that was only half the story. "And if he doesn't? What then? How much longer are you prepared to keep this up? I mean look at you - you are exhausted, have you slept at all the past few days?"

Francesca shook her head, in truth she hadn't slept much.

"And what of your father? We can keep him busy but he's sure to find out, what then?"

Francesca bowed her head, unable to answer.

"And what of Lord Vaisey? He keeps a tight grip on the man that much is obvious; even if Sir Guy does return your feelings do you think he would ever condone the match?"

Francesca had her head in her hands now. She knew the risks she was taking; she had always known but had carried on regardless.

_I know there can be no happy end but I can't help it. _

_Let me be. _

_Let me feel this before I cannot… _

She did not blame them for confronting her with the realities of the situation but for better or worse she had made him a promise and she was determined to fulfil it as long as she could, come what may.

Only one person could change her mind now.

* * *

Guy was frowning.

Francesca found it adorable.

"How's the invalid this evening?" She asked cheerily.

Guy scowled.

"He's a grumpy bugger that's how he is!" Betty replied with a grin.

"Did your broth not cheer him?" Francesca noticed an empty bowl nearby, after so much time out of it he must have been starving.

"I am here and I can hear you both." His exasperated tones didn't have the intended effect - Francesca and Betty traded matching smiles.

"Well, he didn't much like me feeding 'im but he didn't throw it over me so I think we're getting' somewhere you know?"

Francesca couldn't help but laugh. Guy's irritated frown made her swiftly school her expression into something more sober and serious.

"You didn't have to feed me."

"Come off it! Yer as weak as a kitten and you know it!"

Again, Francesca fought with the giggles and Guy's frown deepened.

"I'll tell you another thing an' all, you should enjoy a bit o' motherin' - you'll not be gettin' any as soon as that lord of yours gets back."

Guy opened his mouth and then promptly closed it again. He couldn't argue with that logic. An awkward silence followed and Guy was surprised to see that Francesca was blushing, he wondered what had caused this, unaware what 'a bit o' motherin' had entailed for her. As Betty then said her goodbyes and left to go home, his thoughts returned to the subject of 'that lord' - Jenkins had mentioned that Vaisey had gone away but more than that he didn't know.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"He told father he was visiting a good friend." Francesca replied, sorry that she was unable to tell him more. She need not have worried for judging by his reaction; Guy knew exactly who was meant: he groaned loudly and brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, placing herself on the edge of the bed, she didn't like to see him distressed but was not surprised that he was, considering all that he'd had to hear since regaining consciousness. This morning she'd not had time to explain to him all that had happened because her father had been looking for her but Jenkins had done the job in the interim and the knowledge that one has been poisoned was enough to distress anybody she imagined.

He sighed deeply and bowed his head. His body slumped forwards in a pose of dejection.

Francesca was suddenly mindful of what her cousin and Betty had said to her. "Perhaps I should leave you to sleep…"

"No..." He interrupted, reaching for her wrist, "please…"

His eyes urged her to stay and there was no arguing with that. His plea instantly took her back to the previous night - he had said the same thing in the same tone before he'd pulled her close to him and just the memory of it had her blushing again.

"I feel better when you are here."

Francesca closed her eyes and felt her face glowing hot. He could say anything to her in that tone of voice and it would make her feel this way but _that…_

She was aware of movement nearby, it was only Betty come back to collect something she'd forgotten before departing once more but his hand upon her wrist suddenly felt too intimate so she moved away, busying herself with propping him up against his pillows and pulling the bedsheets over him to get him comfortable. All was silent for a few moments before Guy finally spoke:

"It is not your fault."

Francesca froze.

_You don't know that._

"It wasn't Prince John who did this."

_You don't know that either._

"Vaisey was right; nobody would go to the trouble of poisoning me."

"Then how can it be that you have been poisoned?" Francesca asked the obvious question because no matter what Vaisey said that was what had happened here.

"It wasn't meant for me."

His discovery of Vaisey's whereabouts moments earlier had brought with it the realisation that it had in fact been his master who'd been the intended recipient of the poison. He might be sick, he might be plagued with headaches, he might be so weak that he could barely sit up or raise a spoon to his lips but one thing he was not was dumb.

It had been amateur hour at the ball the other night and he had taken the fall for Vaisey. The thought that he had nearly died because of the spat between Vaisey and Winchester made him sick to his poor poisoned stomach.

Francesca was still in the dark of course; she could not know that it was because of Vaisey and his scheming that he was brought so low before her. Guy deliberated telling her the truth but did not wish to embroil her in the dark world that he and Vaisey inhabited and letting her know of Vaisey's schemes (and in this case the violent reaction to one of them) could put her in danger.

"Then who was it meant for? Prince John?"

It was natural to assume that the most powerful person was the target and Guy was not going to do anything to dissuade her on this one so he neither confirmed nor denied. He merely looked at her in that neutral way he had spent years perfecting.

She understood. It had not escaped her notice that he was hiding something from her, his reaction to her comment regarding Vaisey's whereabouts signalled that he knew more than he let on, but as much as she wished he would tell her what he knew, she was sure he had his reasons for keeping silent. She was about to say as much to him but he knocked her for six with his next comment,

"You can rest easy now."

She frowned. _Rest easy?_ She hadn't been able to rest easy since she'd seen him crash to the floor of the ballroom and she doubted she would be able to until he was back on his feet again. Rest easy? Who was he kidding?

"You need not take such risks anymore."

_Wait… What? _

_Which is it then? You feel better when I'm here or I shouldn't take risks to visit you anymore?_

"I don't understand."

"You need not pity me." His voice was as hard as the first time he'd ever spoken to her and it was as if the shutters had come down. Gone was the tenderness of earlier to be replaced with the stern reserve he was notorious for.

It was as if he'd slapped her in the face.

She stared incredulously at him. "Is that what you think?"

He didn't say anything but it was enough.

Her face fell.

She knew it had all been leading to this, she had been warned often enough and knew that she had invested too much of herself in caring for him but it still didn't prepare her for this: the exact moment the world took away that which she had prized and it was as if all that had passed between them had never happened.

Guy lay back against the pillows trying to hide his distress as he watched the emotions take hold of her. It was all there; plain to see: shock, confusion, pain, sadness… stinging, wounding, all-encompassing disappointment…

That wasn't the worst of it though, for as much as it was painful for him to see her so upset, it was excruciating to watch her recover her composure and pretend that she was alright.

It really was as if they were back to square one: he was back to retreating inside himself, pushing the world away, regarding all with suspicion, doubting the motives of all who had anything to do with him, even those who meant well and she was back to keeping the world at arm's length, pushing her emotions deep down inside, regarding all with polite distance and keeping a stranglehold on her reactions.

She rose wearily from the bed and walked to the window. "I'm sorry that you think that…" her voice was even but flat, Guy had heard her speak this way before with her father and it pierced his heart to hear her using the same resigned tone with him, "I honestly can't understand how you could, considering all that we have done for you…"

A wave of shame washed over him, he could remember little of the past two days but he recalled enough to know that they'd brought him back from the dead, nursed him through his illness and even now watched over him making sure he wanted for nothing.

She turned to face him again, her body taut with the effort of self-exertion, her eyes looking past him as if looking at something in the distance, "Yes, I am sorry that we gave you that impression…"

He could tell she was taking her time to think on her next words but after a loaded silence, she nodded as if having decided something and finally raised her eyes to his. He found himself unable to look at her.

"I have wished so many times these past days that I could see into your mind and know how I could best help you. You have suffered terribly and yes, a part of what we did was because we could not stand to see you suffer but I ask you something now and I hope you will think on it…" she paused and he saw that something had softened in her, that she was beyond the initial shock and hurt his words had caused her. She stared at him and despite his unease, he found himself once more able to look her in the eyes, now that she was asking something of him.

"Does this _feel_ like pity?"

Guy found himself in awe of her. It was the closest thing to a confession of her feelings for him that he supposed she would give but she was brave - braver about this thing between them than he could ever be and her words coupled with the way she looked at him sent a shiver through him. It was a watershed moment they both knew it, and although his head ached and his stomach cramped and he doubted he'd ever felt so ill in all his life, his heart soared.

"You should sleep now, you are much better this day but you need your strength." Her voice was soft now and she turned once more to face the window to give him a semblance of peace so that he could settle into sleep.

"You are staying?" He was so surprised that she was still standing there that he could not conceal the neediness in his voice – he'd already injured her with his pride and despite the fact that he'd wanted to push her away, not believing that she could want to take care of him for any other reason than pity or because she felt responsible for what had happened to him, he now wanted nothing more than for her to stay.

She turned to face him and with a shy smile gave her reply, "I promised didn't I? If you'll have me, then I will stay."


	24. Chapter 24

XXIV

Over breakfast Francesca received the news from her father that he and Natalia were going away for a few days.

He'd taken offense at being snubbed by Prince John and had decided to take a leaf out of Vaisey's book and go visit a friend. The fact that the friend in question had a son who wished to court Natalia was very interesting indeed and Francesca wondered if Natalia had been more injured by the snub than she let on - perhaps her words concerning the prince and the difficulties with the match had not gone unheeded after all.

Her own snub at not being included in the travelling party did not offend her in the slightest, far from it; the moment her father had told her, she'd struggled to conceal her joy, knowing that now nothing stood in the way of her visiting Guy. She was surprised at the decision for she was usually expected to accompany her sister on such trips as chaperone but was (secretly) jubilant to learn that this time her attendance was not required.

Lydia and Sir Thomas, (who were to keep an eye on her for the duration of her father's absence), speculated that his motive for not taking her was to prevent any further upset such as they'd already had with Prince John but Francesca refused to believe that she was in any danger of upstaging her sister again. She could still barely get her head around what had happened with the prince and the only way she could reconcile herself with that was to consider it a freak event, one of the royal's sudden whims. As for her father, she figured he was still angry with her and this was some sort of punishment, little did he know how far from the truth that was, Francesca figured that if this was punishment then she could do with making him angry more often.

Therefore, it was with great pleasure that Francesca saw her father and sister off from the stables, heartily bidding them a good journey and a safe (but hopefully not too swift) return before turning on her heels and skipping happily back inside.

She knew exactly where she would be spending her day but she had something else she wanted to attend to first...

"I was wonderin' when we'd be seein' you again!" Joseph greeted the young lady with a broad smile and several horses nearby whinnied their own happy greetings – she had not come empty handed and the treats had not gone unnoticed.

"Good Morning Joseph! Yes, it's been far too long hasn't it? I'm sorry to have neglected you all but you know where I've been…" Francesca walked over to the horses who were eagerly snuffling in anticipation of the food.

"Aye, I do. Betty has been tellin' me 'bout how much of a help you've been with Sir Guy." Joseph smiled watching the horses enjoying the treats. "How's he doing?"

"He's getting there Joseph. Slowly but surely."

After the drama of the evening, the night had passed relatively peacefully. Guy had slept fitfully, still plagued with stomach pains and headaches but Francesca had tried to keep his mind off things by talking to him, for which he'd been grateful for he'd had many questions about all that had happened whilst he'd been ill and in particular how it had been for her dealing with his illness. She found his concern touching and was glad of the opportunity to talk with him about the past few days but had avoided telling him about the parts of his illness that would surely make him feel uncomfortable - he had difficulty accepting their help as it was and she had no wish to embarrass him further with the details. Little did she know that he'd already had this conversation with Betty and the older woman had had no such qualms when it came to telling him all that had gone on. It was that conversation that had made him push Francesca away thinking that the only reason she would do so much for him was because she pitied him.

Nothing was further than the truth of course but Guy wouldn't be Guy if he didn't doubt and so Francesca's presence was something he fervently wanted but also felt guilty about having. He seesawed between the two; grumbling at how she mothered him but secretly enjoying it when she did, scowling when she good naturedly teased him about his grumpiness but quietly pleased to amuse her so, protesting when she helped him but privately happy to let her.

Francesca could not know any of this but knew enough to realise that his irritability sprung from difficulties in dealing with the situation; it could not be easy for a grown man to be so completely dependent upon others, particularly one such as Guy who she suspected had received few attentions of this kind since childhood but yes, he was getting there - their conversation the previous evening had done much to clear the air and throughout the night he'd seemed better disposed to accept her help and less likely to fly off the handle.

It was these thoughts that gladdened her heart and made her a joyful visitor to the stables that morning and so it would've continued were it not for the arrival of another visitor - one she had not wished to be seeing again so soon.

"One would think that you're avoiding me…"

_Oh no._

She didn't turn around. She didn't have to - she knew exactly who it was. She took a moment to collect herself, to swallow her heart back down from where it had leapt into her throat and turned to face him. He was leaning casually upon one of the fences, looking pleased with himself as he so often did.

She curtseyed, bid him a good morning and made sure to give him a courteous smile. His comment made her feel guilty and she hoped it did not show. He for his part had seen it alright and it amused him to find her so nervous.

"Were you my dear? Avoiding me? Did you stay away on purpose? You should know that I was terribly upset to find you absent the other day…" He was walking over with a nonchalance that belied how strongly he felt on the subject. She had trouble looking him in the eye and figured any answer she gave would sound pathetic so she remained silent. Her absence had been her father's doing but she had not been sorry for it and even if she was not directly responsible, it had been her wish to avoid him and so she could not explicitly deny it for what he said was true.

She chanced a look to her left and was alarmed to find Joseph taking his leave. The stern look directed at him from the prince was the reason no doubt, and as much as she wished she could keep the stable groom there with her, she knew it was impossible so she murmured a forlorn farewell before bringing her attention back to the man before her.

He came ever closer and she felt her muscles stiffen. Her breathing stuttered and she became unsteady on her legs. He took her hands in his and gently ghosted his thumbs over her knuckles, a fond smile forming upon his lips. "Why would you want to do a thing like that hmm? Why would you hide from me when it is obvious how I feel about you?"

Francesca was speechless. Even if she'd had a coherent thought in her head, she doubted she would've been able to express it. What exactly did one say to that? She had hoped that he would be over it, whatever _this_ was, that he'd find others more eager to please him, goodness knows he had enough women at his disposal but no, here they were again and he was as keen as ever – she couldn't get her head round it.

He brought one hand up to caress her cheek and despite the fact that he'd done this to her several times now, she was still unable to stop herself from trembling. He pulled her closer to him, his eyes soft and mischievous and although she knew he meant her no harm, it didn't make her feel better in the slightest.

"Perhaps it is not so obvious hmm? Perhaps you doubt?" His voice was a whisper now, a purr, his words meant only for her, (he was of course not alone; his guards were not far away at the entrance to the stables, pretending not to watch the intimate scene before them).

The prince cared not that he had an audience; he had his eyes fixed firmly on the prize. "Perhaps I must show you…"

The tone of his voice alone had her wobbling and not for good reasons but then he brought his lips to her temple and all she wanted was to bolt and get far away from him. He could sense it but it did not repel him. His hands slid around her, one to the nape of her neck cradling her head from behind, the other caressing her hip. He brought his lips close to her ear and whispered; "Shhh… you need not doubt my sweet, let me show you how good I shall be to you…"

He placed a kiss beneath her ear and had she been able to do anything other than stand there stiff as a board, she would've wondered how many others he'd given that line. Not that it would've made any difference, nor would she have felt better had he not been notorious for this sort of thing.

She didn't want this. She never had. She could not for the life of her understand why he would want her when she was so obviously unwilling. In some respects she was good at playing pretend, pretending that all was well despite how difficult it was dealing with her father and sister for example, but _this? _Pretending to want where she did not? It felt wrong, so very wrong and she did not doubt that she looked as horrified as she felt but he carried on regardless.

She had her head bowed; unable to look him in the eyes, which was probably better for her for if she could see the want in them it would've made it all so much worse but what she could see was how he ran his tongue over his bottom lip and she knew exactly what his next move would be.

He was a hairsbreadth away from doing just as she expected, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips whispering over her own when…

"Your Highness? I must speak with you immediately, it is of great importance."

It was Simmons. He had a row of guards between himself and the prince and so could not see what it was he was interrupting. When he finally blustered his way through and got an eyeful of what he'd missed he felt very sheepish.

Francesca and Prince John sighed simultaneously but for very different reasons.

"Ten minutes of peace! Is that too much to ask for?"

The prince was on the verge of a serious strop, his entire being signalling his irritation.

Francesca was on the verge of hugging Simmons, her entire being signalling her relief.

"I'm sorry your Highness but believe me you are going to want to hear what I have come to tell you."

The prince cursed under his breath and stepped away from her. Francesca silently rejoiced.

"You better be right Simmons or you'll have more to worry about than a bout of flu!"

Simmons shuffled uncomfortably, he never liked to displease the prince but this week he was doing it rather a lot: first he'd fallen ill and now he'd barged in on an intimate tête-à-tête – not good he knew, but it was not like he could help it and he was sure that as soon as his irate employer heard what he had to say he would have other things on his mind than his missteps.

Prince John smiled sadly at the object of his desire and sighed. "You will forgive me if I attend to this?"

Francesca smiled reassuringly at him, she would forgive him alright; she had no problem with this whatsoever. He surprised her by taking a step forwards and kissing her on the cheek. "I will see you later? You won't go running off on me again?" His voice was low and husky and Francesca was sure that for the right woman it must sound like heaven, alas, she was not that woman and so it took effort to smile and nod in answer to his question.

_I wouldn't count on it though._


	25. Chapter 25

XXV

Guy knew what had happened straight away. She didn't have to say a word.

Francesca had always thought that she was good at reading people but she was surprised to find that in Sir Guy of Gisborne she had more than met her match.

"What did he do?" He was angry, his whole body rigid, piercing blue eyes framed by a thunderous frown. Francesca tried to play the incident down, not wishing to burden him with her troubles but he was having none of it;

"Tell me!"

"I was lucky; a servant arrived before he could…"

"Could what?" His voice boomed loudly, echoing off the walls. He jolted to sit upright and Francesca was worried he could hurt himself.

"Please it was nothing, do not distress yourself…"

"Nothing? You are telling me it was nothing! I can see that it was not!"

"Please Guy…" Her voice was wavering with distress and he came down from his rage as quickly as he'd lost himself in it.

"I am sorry. I should not lose my temper I know…" _but I feel so helpless _is what he would not allow himself to say.

This thing with Prince John unmanned him. He wanted to protect her but he couldn't: he couldn't even get out of bed because every time he did dizziness and nausea forced him to lie down again. Even if he'd been top fit and none of this had happened what exactly could he say to the next in line to the throne? "Your Highness would you kindly leave… _my… lady? friend? acquaintance? nurse? Oh God…_ would you err… kindly leave… Lady Francesca alone?"

_Ha! Like that would work!_

He could just picture the prince and his band of chuckle brothers having a good laugh over that one.

_Yes, just before they throw me in the dungeons._

"I wish I could help you."

The words came out before he could hold them back and he was instantly ashamed of himself for being so candid.

He need not have been though because for once he had said exactly the right thing. She smiled at him in that luminous way that only she could and it was so good, so reassuring, so understanding...

She sat down upon the bed and tentatively placed her hand over his. "I know."

They stared at each other a long time, a silent conversation taking place between them all the while, a conversation of want, of need, of hope…

_Do you...?_

_Would you...?_

_Could we...?_

Then she felt him turn his hand beneath hers and intertwine his fingers with hers. Her smile widened and she thought her heart would beat right out of her chest. He must have been thinking the same thing for he brought her hand up to his chest and lay it flat upon it so she could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage. She sighed and for Guy it was the sweetest sound, he closed his eyes to drown out the insecure chatter of his mind and let himself feel what it was his body so fervently wanted him to feel. Then he shuffled towards her – it was awkward, inelegant and completely without finesse but he cared not, and judging by her smile, nor did she. They shuffled some more before settling on an adequate but not very comfortable position close to each other - he tangled in the bedsheets and she perched awkwardly on the bed, twisting her body to face him, unsure of where to put her legs and far too polite to climb onto his lap to get closer…

Their lips were almost touching when Francesca made him laugh by looking over her shoulder towards the door, hardly believing that this was really happening and she'd gotten lucky enough to be alone with him. Their usual chaperones were away tending to other patients - Jenkins had been fine with the arrangement but Betty had required some persuading and Francesca had all but pushed the woman out the door in the end. She meant well but fussing had been the last thing Francesca needed after what she'd been through with Prince John that morning - Guy had seen she was upset and it was a few curt words from him that had finally got Betty to go and tend to more serious matters than chaperoning a recovering poison victim and his upset carer.

So they were finally alone and there was no sign of upset now - far from it and had Francesca been able to think of anything but how much she wanted this, she would've been amazed at how different two such intimate moments could be... it had only been a few hours since she'd been standing in the stables, utterly terrified of one man's touch only to find herself now melting into another's…

but he was so gentle with her, so good, so warm…

Their kiss, when it finally happened, was barely more than a peck but God in heaven it was sweet and both found themselves leaning in again, one shy smile meeting another…

It was not long however, before he was pulling away and his smile had been replaced by a frown. "I'm sorry…"

Francesca was aghast, wondering how something so glorious could make him feel sorry. "No! No I wanted…"

"I'm sorry but I think I'm going to…" His voice was breathy, his eyes were rolling back into his head, and then she watched him falling backwards. His fingers slid from her waist and he lay heavy as a dead weight upon his back.

Panic gripped her as she realised what was happening, "Guy? Are you? Oh God you are! You're passing out on me!"

She leant over him, shaking his shoulder to rouse him but to no avail. "Please Guy! I'm sorry! Please wake up! I didn't mean to…"

_What? Kiss him? Yes you did. Nice job by the way, first kiss and you've knocked him out…_

She got up from the bed to find something to bring him round, panicking when nothing immediately came to mind before settling upon wetting his face with cold water. She had to clamber up onto the bed, flicking droplets onto his brow and cheeks hoping that the shock of cold would do the trick and lo and behold, his eyes fluttered open. Tears sprang to her eyes and although she smiled, she felt like she could weep – overwhelmed by feelings of relief, just as she had been so many times these past days.

She hid her face against his chest to hide her tears and he slid one hand up to gently cradle her head and stroke her hair. "Shh… it's alright… I'm alright…"

She sank down against him, resting upon him and he continued to soothe her with murmured words and gentle touches. "It's alright mouse, shh… I'm sorry I scared you…"

_Mouse!? _

_Did he just call me…? _

Francesca smiled against his chest upon hearing the nickname but had no time to think any more of it for the door to the bedchamber opened and through it came Guy's two other carers just in time to cop an eyeful of their patient on the bed with his lady lay on top of him.

*

"Ah, we're getting somewhere I see!" Jenkins laughed loudly, not in the slightest embarrassed at what he'd just seen - he could write a book about the stuff that he'd caught people doing over the years.

Francesca was standing at the side of the bed, her face a fetching shade of red, head down, eyes fixed upon the floor, still trying to catch her breath from having scrambled hastily away from Guy.

The knight smirked; he was neither apologetic nor ashamed but instead amused – he'd already had words from Betty on the subject of "behavin' 'imself with Lady Francesca" and now he felt like a scolded child who'd just earned himself another lecture. That shouldn't be funny he supposed, but he was still drunk on their kisses earlier and so couldn't find it in him to care.

Betty was all out of lectures. The situation was too funny for that. She tried to keep her face straight, she really did, but it took one look from Jenkins to get her laughing and that was it. "You were checkin' his pulse were you?"

"Nah, keeping him warm I reckon!" Jenkins quipped.

Francesca blushed an even deeper red. "He passed out." She murmured pouting.

"Ah! So that was it! You were reviving 'im were you?" Betty was laughing hard now, which got the men in the room laughing as well.

Francesca looked incredulously at Guy who stopped laughing for a moment but then gave into the giggles. "Some help you are!" She tried to be serious as she said this but couldn't keep it up, quickly descending into giggles herself.

"What? Don't blame me! I was out of it!" He declared playfully, raising his arms in mock surrender.

"Well Sir Guy, I salute you. That's a new one on me I must admit, I've heard of sleeping damsels revived by a lover's kiss but sleeping knights!?"

Francesca opened her mouth to protest and then promptly closed it. She hadn't revived him with a kiss but there had been one (two actually)… and then he'd passed out (!?) which was not something she was ready to admit to right now so she thought it best to keep quiet whilst the others had their fun at her expense.

She did not dare look at Guy, she was blushing badly as it was, but then she was surprised to feel his hand slip into hers and give it a squeeze. When she finally allowed herself to look at him, he directed an affectionate smile at her before bringing her hand to his lips,

"Come my lady, be not ashamed – I doubt I would be here were it not for you reviving me."

It was a sweet peace offering, wrapped in a quip that brought smiles to all their faces. He was alive because of her they all knew it. He hoped he would be smart enough to never forget it and now that the cat was out of the bag, he would not be ashamed to honour it. He kissed her hand again before finally releasing it, his face filled with such longing that Francesca became flustered and tried to steer the conversation to other things. The teasing would not end there she knew but she needed a break from the tumult of her emotions for the moment.

* * *

Night had fallen and at Guy's request, Francesca lay down beside him with her head upon his chest.

He'd mischievously suggested that it would help him sleep and Francesca had found herself unable to refuse him; it was for the good of the patient after all... 

This playful side of him that had come to the fore was a revelation to her but certainly not unwelcome, she was glad to see him smile - was delighted to make him smile - God knows he hadn't had much to smile about lately.

So she lay contented, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her, listening to his heart beating, enjoying their closeness and then at some point without realising it, her fingers wandered to his beard, which over the course of four days had grown quite thick.

"Will you shave it off for me?" The raised eyebrow that came with this request made him look utterly delectable, Francesca had to remind herself to breathe.

"I don't know. I quite like it." She admitted, still struggling with her breathing (and speaking... and functioning normally in general).

"You do?" He was surprised by this; he did not think he suited a beard at all.

"Yes, it feels nice." She replied, hiding her face against his chest.

"It does?" He had trouble believing this as well, most women he knew complained about their husband's beards. She nodded and eventually overcame her butterflies to look up at him. He could tell she was being sincere and took the opportunity to place a kiss on her lips (something he was becoming rapidly addicted to now that their chaperones had given up any attempts at chaperoning: a hard won concession based on the fact that he was, as Jenkins put it, "in no condition to do anything more strenuous than sleep").

"Does it not scratch you?" He slid a thumb over her jaw to illustrate what he meant.

"I don't know it any other way." She admitted, sliding both hands into his beard before kissing him deeply. Both hummed happily into the kiss before breaking apart to nuzzle against each other.

"Then I shall keep it a little while longer." He murmured before slipping into a contented sleep.


	26. Chapter 26

XXVI

Guy was still plagued by dizziness.

He had been told by his carers to take it easy but he wanted to be up and about. Problem was that his body had other ideas and fainting spells were the result.

"What are you doing? A few days ago you almost died! Have you forgotten that already?" Jenkins was exasperated - despite all warnings Guy seemed incapable of taking it easy.

Guy shook his head, no, he hadn't forgotten, indeed his body was intent on reminding him, (having him black out whilst doing nothing more strenuous than kissing his lady for example), it was just that he could not allow himself the luxury of a long convalescence and he certainly wouldn't be permitted one as soon as Vaisey returned. Everyone else might have forgotten about the old man but Guy most certainly had not.

_Better to prepare yourself, weakness won't cut it with him._

He tried to explain this to Jenkins but the healer could only shake his head and remind him that the body healed in it's own time and not according to wishes or orders.

"You have been poisoned! This is not something you can just ignore and carry on with your day - who knows what the long-term effects will be? Please, if not for yourself then think of her…" Jenkins spoke quieter now, not wishing for Francesca, who had briefly ducked out the door for a breath of air, to overhear him. "I know not your plans but don't let me end up having to comfort her because you end up half dead due to over-exertion."

Guy nodded and felt a wave of shame wash over him. What was he doing here? She had done all she could to get him through this and here he was rushing headlong back into the mess that was his life. Had he not been given another chance? Was that not what this was? He owed her his life and yet what could he offer her?

How could he be worthy of her?

How could they go forwards from this?

The shadow of Vaisey loomed over them as did that of her father and even if through some miracle they should be allowed to marry, he had nothing; neither wealth nor land…

They were adrift…

and as much as he longed to be with her, to give her all that she deserved, he knew somewhere inside himself that it was not right, that _he_ was not right, that perhaps it would be better to leave her be…

but then she would look at him with _that_ way… and God forgive him, weak and selfish creature that he was, he could not.

It was this he was thinking of as she came back inside, smiling at Jenkins who was on his way out to fetch supplies. She was about to take her usual spot at Guy's bedside but hesitated upon seeing him frowning;

"Is everything alright?"

Where to begin with all that troubled him? How to explain to her?

Fortunately, she could guess what was on his mind: "You are thinking of Lord Vaisey?"

_Yes mouse I am, it shouldn't be allowed for me to think of one such as him when I am with one such as you but I do..._

"He came here whilst you were ill with fever, he saw me here… He will tell my father I know…" Her voice was tired and despondent; she knew what was coming just as he did.

"I could ask him not to."

"I doubt it would make any difference." She smiled sadly and Guy could only nod his head. Vaisey was not to be bargained with and certainly not when he had an advantage over somebody.

"My father always told me that nobody would ever care for me, how strange that now that somebody does, he opposes it," she shrugged helplessly, "I don't think I will ever understand him."

"I understand him perfectly: I have nothing to give you. You may think him unfair but no father would want somebody with so little for their daughter." The truth always hurt but Guy would not shirk from telling it when he must.

"You are a good man…"

"I am not even that."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it is true."

She could only shake her head, confused that he should say such things - for her he was the tender lover she saw before her, she could not know of all else that he was. That she believed him to be good was something that elated and pained him in equal measure – he so wished he could be the man she believed him to be and yet it was cruel to string her along, innocent as she was.

"You have made a poor match Francesca."

"No I have not! You are the best thing to have ever happened to me!"

"Then God help you."

A stormy silence followed. They stared at each other a long time, stuck in a stubborn stalemate over an impossible situation.

Then she finally found her voice to tell him how she felt: "I know it is hopeless, I know that my father will not allow it and that when he returns he will put an end to it but I am not sorry to be here with you, _I want_ _this_ and I beg you not to send me away for I shall never have this again…"

"What are you saying? Of course you will!" Guy's opinion of her was so altered from how he'd felt upon first meeting her that he was no longer able to think any other way about her.

She shook her head, unable to share his optimism; she had not forgotten how her life had been before she met him and was under no illusion that as soon as she was forced to give him up that anything was going to be any different than it had been then.

"Come here." His voice was low and sent shivers down her spine. She smiled, knowing she was powerless to resist him. She took her place upon the bed, shuffling closer to him and Guy leaned forward to bring both hands to her cheeks, cradling her head in his hands and looking directly into her eyes.

"Your cousin was right; you sell yourself short…" as he spoke, he paused intermittently to press his lips to hers, punctuating each sentence with a kiss, "you have no idea do you?... what you do to me?... what you do to us poor men?… you think yourself plain but you are not… you never were… and we are just idiots… blind fools… but your cousin knew… just as I now know… just as others will know…"

He was losing himself in these kisses now, deepening them, filling them with want and the way she responded was so adorably innocent, her lips so tentative and unlearned – it was obvious that he was her first and it turned him on immensely. They kissed as teenagers would; slow and shy - he might have been kissing her but in fact it was she who determined the pace and although Guy knew he could at any moment slide his tongue into the sweet heaven that was her mouth, he did not, for although he was no virgin, this was virgin territory for him too in a way and for once in his life he wanted to take his time. Kissing was not something he'd done much of over the years – such intimacy had felt wrong with previous women due to the temporary nature of former dalliances but this felt right, indeed nothing had ever felt so right and so he decided he would do this right – the way a good man should…

And so he let her lead him, enjoying her shyness, basking in the feel of her, his fingers sliding into her hair, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as she tilted her head to get a better angle…

"You would tell me…" She murmured against his lips, breaking the kiss to look into his eyes, her hands wandering up his chest. He raised an eyebrow in questioning and she wondered if it was possible to adore him more. "You would tell me if you are feeling unwell?"

He smiled, his thumb ghosting over her cheek, his eyes warm and affectionate, his lips sneaking a quick peck before answering; "I shall, I promise. I know I scared you yesterday – it is true that I am not yet fit – but I am certain that my nurse is administering the correct cure…" he paused to kiss her again, the corners of his mouth quirking up as he heard a small chuckle from her before he groaned at the enthusiasm with which she kissed him back. He then fell completely in love with the humming sound she made in return, hoping to make her do it again by teasing her bottom lip with his tongue…

"You would tell me…" It was he who was questioning now, one of his many worries having fought it's way through to spoil this sweetest of moments. She raised an eyebrow just as he had and it felt as if his heart was fluttering in his chest. "You would tell me if it is too much?"

Francesca smirked.

"I worry that I am no better than Prince John."

He was relieved to see her emphatically shaking her head. "You are nothing like him."

"And yet we both have such good taste…" He declared, sneaking another kiss, enjoying the blush that appeared on cue, "and I am sure that if he could see me now he would envy me greatly…" another pause, another kiss, "but seriously, I worry that I take advantage..." She was about to interrupt but his earnest expression stopped her, "You give your heart so freely and what have I to give you?"

She kissed him hard now, stopping all that he was about to say, letting the full pitch of her passion fly, both hands surging into his beard, caressing his face, her lips worshipping his and he moaned loudly before enfolding her completely in his arms, giving as good as he got, all ideas of taking it slow completely abandoned in the face of her desire. He was astounded to feel her tongue swipe his bottom lip and his brain could only note how quick a learner she was before his tongue responded in blissful eagerness, wanting nothing more than to fully taste her now, receiving a moan in response, which swiftly became his favourite sound in the whole world.

They kissed for a long time, oblivious to everything but each other before sinking into a deeply satisfying hug - she, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, sighing in incandescent happiness and he, squeezing her tightly, eyes closed, a lopsided smile whispering over her eyebrow, kissing it every now and again in a silent prayer of thanks.

"Does that answer your question?" She smiled mischievously, pressing a kiss to his throat.

His breath hitched at the feel of her lips upon him. Then he laughed heartily and she loved the way it rumbled through his chest. "What was the question again?"

She giggled and bashfully replied, "The question of what you have to give me…" She buried her face in his neck, squirming and embarrassed but still smiling.

He began laughing loudly once more, highly amused by her mischief, "Ah! So that is what you want from me is it!?" He folded her closer to his chest, cradling her tighter and began attacking her with kisses, peppering her face with them, making her laugh so hard her stomach ached.

"I hate to interrupt…"

It was fortunate for Jenkins that Guy was bedbound; otherwise he would've been in a whole world of trouble right about now. The healer was standing in the doorway trying to repress a smirk, avoiding eye contact with an angry knight, focussing instead upon the cuteness overload that was flustered Francesca.

"Your cousin is on her way over, no doubt to tell you of Prince John…"

"What about him?" Francesca asked the question that was on the lips of both puzzled lovers.

"He's gone."


	27. Chapter 27

XXVII

"Gone!?"

"Yes, he left yesterday morning apparently." Lydia answered, studying her cousin's reaction closely. Francesca had already heard the news from Jenkins but hearing it from her cousin as well did not make it any less surprising.

After the initial shock wore off, Francesca found she could breathe a little easier - she had been worried that the prince might come looking for her again, so to hear that he was gone was a load off her mind.

"Has he given any word as to why he left?" Guy had a fair idea what the answer to this question would be but was curious all the same.

"The official line is that he left due to fears for his safety."

Guy scoffed and Lydia smiled at him, "I'd say you took care of that for him Sir Guy! Going above and beyond the call of duty."

Francesca was frowning however, "He didn't even come to see how you are! It is his fault you are here…"

Guy did not correct her - it was actually Vaisey's fault but he wasn't prepared to go into that right now - instead he took her hands in his, squeezing gently, his eyes shimmering with adoration for his lady, "Shhh little one, I do not need him here, I have all I need."

Lydia bristled at the intimacy, realising that things had obviously progressed between her cousin and the knight since she'd last spoken on the subject with Francesca.

"And the unofficial line?" Guy wondered if word had gotten round about his part in this sorry affair.

"Well…" Lydia was grinning now, relishing the opportunity for a bit of gossip, "I've heard everything from he left broken-hearted because Francesca rejected him…"

"Ha! I wish it could've been that simple!" Francesca smirked.

"To how his wife heard about Francesca and made him come away…" Lydia continued.

"She probably wishes it was that simple!" Jenkins quipped.

"Or how King Richard is tired of his brother playing merry whilst he is at war and has sent him away on urgent business…"

"He probably wishes it was that simple." Guy deadpanned.

"Then there is the one about a failed attempt on the prince's life and how a brave knight has taken the fall for him…" Lydia smiled knowingly at the knight in question.

"Not many are going for that one I presume?" Jenkins joked.

"Now that you mention it no, most find it too far-fetched." Lydia laughed at Guy's offended scowl. Francesca placed a small kiss upon his hand in consolation even though she felt somewhat offended herself - offended that all had unfolded as Vaisey had predicted.

"Come now Sir Guy, be not distressed, that version of the story is the one generally believed by the servants although the details vary wildly…"

Jenkins was laughing now, "Yeah my favourite is the one about how you were served donkey's p…" he caught himself just in time to avoid uttering profanities in front of the ladies, "errr… the servants' wine instead of the stuff for the nobles and it nearly killed you!"

Everybody laughed and Jenkins laughed loudest of all; it took him a moment to get a grip on himself before he could continue speaking, "funny thing is though, that is exactly what we used to bring you round!"

There were roars of laughter at this from all assembled.

All except Guy that is. He was furious.

"Aww come on, we had to flush the poison out of your system." Jenkins was still laughing but was good enough to look somewhat sheepish as well.

"With that filth!"

"It's not so bad once you get used to it!"

Lydia got the giggles now. In a big way. Francesca was trying to keep a straight face but as her cousin produced a bottle from her basket, she knew straight away what it was, and collapsed into fits of laughter herself.

Lydia tried to explain but was laughing so hard she was incapable of doing so. Seeing that they were not going to get any coherent speech from the lady, Jenkins took over, "Ahh! A few of the lads said they wanted to give you something Sir Guy… a get well gift if you like…" he had done well to keep it together this long but now he too was lost to the giggles as he passed the bottle over to a thoroughly unamused knight.

Guy sighed and looked at the bottle.

_I suppose I should be flattered…_

* * *

"… and the fair maiden couldn't believe what she saw in the clear waters of the lake….

it…

was….."

Francesca put the book down, certain that her knight had finally slipped into peaceful slumber. She lowered her head to rest upon his chest and gently snuggled into him.

"What was it?" A sleepy voice asked.

Francesca giggled. "I thought you were asleep."

"Just before the best bit?"

"The best bit is the happy ending, we're not there yet - this is where she sees the merman."

"A merman!?"

With her head lay upon his chest, she couldn't see his smile but could certainly hear it.

"Yes and he's the most beautiful creature she has ever seen."

"Really?"

She felt lips upon her hair and then fingers gently tilting her head up so that those lips could meet her own.

"And they fall in love?" His voice was soft and impossibly deep making his lady shiver.

"Yes." She replied, sighing happily, melting into the touch of his hand upon her cheek.

"And they get to be happy?"

"Yes." She nodded and kissed his thumb as it slid over her bottom lip.

Guy was about to say that if a merman and a maiden could be happy then perhaps there was hope for himself and Francesca after all but then he remembered that they were not living in a fairy-tale world where love conquers all and there is always a happy ending.

"You make me happy." Francesca whispered between kisses and Guy's heart ached to hear it.

"If I could, I would try to for the rest of my life."

* * *

Francesca had never been a fan of mornings but lately she'd grown to detest them for this was the time of day when she had to leave Guy.

One might perhaps think that the absence of her family these past few days had allowed Francesca to linger on in the arms of her lover but no, where the morning routine was concerned, Lydia remained strict. Francesca respected her cousin's wishes and didn't question them since Lydia was so generous as to let her be with Guy at all other times. Then there was the matter of keeping up appearances and not sliding into bad habits, after all her father was not gone to the moon and would be back soon enough.

It had not been long since her cousin had picked her up when the dawn of the new day brought with it that very event: her father and sister were returned… and brought with them joyful tidings.

Well, they thought they were joyful, Francesca begged to differ.

Ultimately, after all that had happened, it was not her father's disapproval of the man she loved that spelt the end for Francesca and Guy, no, it was the happy plans of her newly betrothed sister…

and no sooner had her father told her that her sister was to be married than she was instructed to pack.

She protested of course, as did her cousin: could the journey home not wait a while to give them all the chance to say farewell to their friends at court?

Sadly, Cavendish would not hear of it.

And so it came to pass.

Just as it always did in the life of Francesca Cavendish.

Her wishes trampled upon. Her feelings disregarded. Her hopes swept away in a bluster of plans for her elder sister.

Always second fiddle. How could she have forgotten?

In the end, Joseph was the only one she got to see before they left and that was only because it was his job to prepare the carriage and horses for their journey to the Cavendish estate.

She barely had chance to embrace him in farewell before she was manhandled into the carriage by her impatient father.

He barely had time to wave her goodbye before the carriage shot forward and the Cavendish family were on their way.

The stable groom remained standing in that one spot a long time after they had gone, shocked and saddened by this turn of events. In his pocket was a hastily written note of thanks that had been secreted there by a tearful Francesca. With it was a note for Sir Guy. Had Lord Vaisey not arrived shortly after, he would've gone to deliver it. As it was, he kept it to himself for the moment, not willing to trust the lord with such precious cargo.

* * *

It was in the waking light of dawn that Guy decided to be brave.

He knew that Vaisey would refuse him but he had to try.

He had been given another chance at life and not only that, he had been so fortunate as to win the heart of the kindest, sweetest, most wonderful girl he had ever known – he could not give up before he had even tried for her.

After all, isn't that what he'd accused his father of? Cowardice? Letting his mother go without a fight? Giving up too easily?

After Francesca had left his bedside, (just before the dawn as she always did), he thought about what he might do to overcome all that stood in the way of their being together, knowing it was hopeless but believing with every fibre of his being that she was worth the effort.

_ **I will try.** _

Not two hours later, Vaisey informed him that she was gone.

* * *

END OF PART I

* * *


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 runs parallel to events of Series 1 up until Episode 8 - Tattoo? What Tattoo?
> 
> It has been over a decade since Series 1 was broadcast in the UK therefore references to plotlines may seem a bit hazy to some. If you have any questions along the lines of "err… what was that about?" / "who was that bloke again?" or similar, please do not hesitate to ask.
> 
> If you are still with me at this point, (28 chapters in to what has become a behemoth), God bless you, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.
> 
> Cheers.

**Part 2 - The Shadow And The Light**

XXVIII

It's not every day you come home from a five year term of fighting in the holy land for king and country to find that your erstwhile step brother has moved into your house but for Robin, Earl of Huntingdon, nothing about the trip home to Locksley had been normal.

_Scary women out there folks - man-eaters, dolled up to the nines ready to pounce on unsuspecting world-weary travellers… thank God for Much; I don't know which one of them would've been the end of me: angry dad or nympho daughter…_

"**Ten sacks of flour have gone missing from the store. They will be found. They will be accounted for."**

_Well... _

_this got a hell of a lot more surreal. _

That's the thing with old scores though isn't it? They have a nasty habit of coming back to bite you...

and from the looks of things Guy of Gisborne had spent the years since their last meeting sharpening his teeth.

_I'm beginning to think I'd have been better off staying at that farm._

Indeed, it wouldn't have been a bad idea for things were not about to get better…

"Marian. It is me, Robin."

"Congratulations. **Leave!**"

Nothing quite says welcome home like having the love of your life threaten to shoot you with an arrow does it?

Robin had hardly expected a warm welcome – staying away for five years was never going to go down well was it? - but he had to admit that having an arrow pointed at his head spelled a new low in his relationship with Marian.

Then there was the matter of his chat up lines, which didn't really help and could, on further reflection, probably do with some work…

'_I believe you can see into my soul' always worked though… _

_hmm….. _

_yeah maybe she's right; better ditch that one…_

He briefly debated running a few by Much before promptly scratching that idea – as amenable as his friend was, listening to his chat up lines was going beyond the call of duty even for one as devoted as Much.

Still, at least she was still single! That was something wasn't it? and she hadn't actually shot him… though if looks could kill…

No, it wasn't the homecoming he'd hoped for and though not all were so hostile as his former fiancée, most were too busy doing whatever they could to survive living under an evil sheriff (as Will Scarlett had so aptly put it) to be truly happy that he'd returned.

He longed to put everything back the way it had been, the way it ought to be, but there was only so much one could do with a bow and arrow now that words no longer held sway.

Edward had been a fair-minded sheriff; open to the opinions of others, with Vaisey however, it was like talking to the wall; he wasn't remotely interested in anything anyone had to say and from the looks of what he'd achieved in Nottingham the past few years, it didn't seem like that was going to change any time soon.

Dark days indeed for the returned hero.

* * *

If the homecoming had been difficult then the following days were a nightmare.

One minute he'd been fighting alongside his king, the next reduced to skulking about in the forest with only a few bites of squirrel meat to look forward to. An impressive descent by any standards.

What should he have done though? Let villagers hang for a trifle? Or lose their tongues because they would not give him up? That was never going to be an option was it? These were his people. He was a fighter. Vaisey had backed him into a corner and he'd done the one thing he knew best. Marian might think him a fool but better that than a 'dead man' – one who would stoop so low as to rob a man of his last ha'penny.

No, he would not just stand by and watch as the country he loved tore itself to pieces in the fight to survive the cruel injustices forced upon it by men like Vaisey.

A war for a war then.

One fight for another.

_So be it. _


	29. Chapter 29

XXIX

Sheriff Vaisey was alarmed to find that he'd begun squishing birds again.

Alarmed for he hadn't done that in ages. In fact, it took him a while to recall the last time he'd been so stressed as to mangle one of his feathered friends before the unhappy recollection of Gisborne's failure to kill the king nearly caused him to crush another poor whimpering bundle.

_Damn Gisborne and his blundering..._

As per usual when thinking of his lieutenant, he conveniently forgot the innumerable ways in which Gisborne had loyally served him over the years, instead choosing to focus upon his failures and in particular, the one crucial failure that stung the most.

Where would they be now if he'd managed to do the job?

_Well, we wouldn't be having to deal with Locksley's peasants… come to think of it, we wouldn't be having to deal with Locksley either…_

With Richard out of the picture and John on the throne, the sky would've been the limit for both of them – England would've been their playground and Richard's followers; Locksley and his ilk would've come home to the noose instead of being free to cause trouble in his backyard.

But thanks to Gisborne's misstep it hadn't happened - in the blink of an eye it had all gone wrong and instead of being where they wanted to be, they were dealing with the great unwashed and their accursed loyalty to that outlaw.

Still, all things considered, they were lucky to have even that privilege. Prince John had made Vaisey sheriff on the understanding that he would 'take care of his brother for him' - when Gisborne had screwed that up, the sheriff had naturally been worried that he could be out of a job. That he'd not been fired had only been down to assurances made that after a period of regrouping, another attempt on the king's life would be undertaken.

It was ironic that it was a failed assassination attempt that had gotten him so far only to have it all nearly taken away from him because of a failed assassination attempt.

Catching the man who'd tried to kill Prince John had made him - had gotten him Sussex and all the other counties he had wanted for so long. The fact that the assassin had not wanted to murder the prince but had actually wanted _him_ dead was irrelevant: a detail – something he conveniently 'forgot' upon envisaging the rewards to be had from their benevolent regent.

Willy had not forgotten of course; he'd known exactly whom he'd wanted to kill and had fervently protested against the charge of treason but this detail had interested everyone else as little as it had Vaisey – I mean let's face it, if you put the words poisoning and Prince John's court together in a sentence that is pretty much all you need isn't it?

The mood had been one of hysteria and Vaisey had given the people what they wanted: someone to hang.

The only catch with this version of events that all were so eager to believe, was that Winchester got off the hook.

It had been satisfying for Vaisey to watch Willy swing; the man had tried to kill him after all, but in punishing the servant, he had spared the master. Winchester, like Vaisey himself, had put his support entirely behind Prince John so the notion that he'd put Willy up to it was summarily rejected by all. Vaisey hadn't forgotten his enemy though, he may have chosen reward over revenge but he knew that if he played the long game he could probably have both.

Then there was Willy, who during his spell in the dungeons, had naturally spilled all about Vaisey, Winchester and their respective roles in the whole sorry mess but his words were dismissed as the ravings of a mad man. His case was not helped by the fact that both lords were quick to throw him to the lions – Vaisey because he benefitted handsomely from the results and Winchester because he was hardly going to admit having plotted to murder a rival:

"I fired the man months ago; he'd been behaving strangely and I caught him rifling through my private documents… still, I never would've dreamed that he'd do something like this..."

The stitch up was complete. The people believed what they wanted to believe and the truth was buried with the hung man.

Vaisey triumphed.

Winchester kept his mouth shut.

Both waited.

It was not over.

* * *

"**Loosen your tongues or lose your tongues!**"

Vaisey had to admit that Gisborne had developed promisingly since they'd come to Nottingham.

He'd been worried about him for a while there, especially after the girl had left court (the younger man might've claimed that his depressed mood had been due to the aftereffects of the poison in his system but he knew otherwise). Fortunately, the gift of Locksley (and thus the Gisborne lands) had been enough to keep the man on side and bring out the nastier side of him that Vaisey most appreciated.

Indeed, finally possessing the lands he'd prized so long had done wonders for his recovery as well. The hunt for Willy had not been an easy one; having botched the job, the poisoner had sensibly decided not to return to Winchester instead bunking down with his son in some hovel in London and the search for him had very nearly killed Gisborne. Granted, Vaisey had dragged the knight from his sick bed scarcely giving a thought to how ill the man had been nor his mental condition, which can't have been all that great considering what happened with the girl on top of how close he had been to death because of his schemes. Not even the news that Vaisey had been rewarded by Prince John nor Willy's hanging had seemed to cheer him and the poison in his system had gained the upper hand once more as his body and mind succumbed to exhaustion.

Vaisey had pretended not to care but it had secretly troubled him to see his lieutenant so ill again, mostly because of the time and effort it would cost him to find another servant should Gisborne die but also because he was privately somewhat fond of the man (so long as he faithfully carried out his orders and didn't screw up that is). So, after all that, he'd needed something special to raise the younger man's spirits and motivate him anew. Luckily, just at that time, the offer to take power in Nottingham had presented itself and the rest was history.

There was always a fly in the ointment though wasn't there?

This time it was a particularly troublesome one…

_Robin Hood._

He cursed the man but was not yet despairing. One just had to find the right tool to do the job... and Gisborne's old hatred for the outlaw was proving useful indeed on this one.

Even so, one had to consider all options and a bit of competition never hurt anyone did it?

_As Sheriff I need a Master of Arms don't I? _

_May the best man win._


	30. Chapter 30

XXX

He was as infuriating as ever.

Not even five years fighting the Turk had made a dent in his ego.

The nerve of the man was astounding – I mean fancy turning up on the doorstep of the woman you left in the lurch for half a decade, assuming you can just sweep her off her feet with a smug grin and a few platitudes...

Then, having got on the sheriff's bad side, (provoking reprisals that nobody needed on top of the usual cruel treatment of the populace), let's go try it on with aforementioned (utterly unimpressed) woman using the lamest chat up lines imaginable.

"Marian, this is not the time I know…"

_Ten points Robin, if there was anything more inappropriate right now then I'm struggling to think of it… _

"but I must say, you are, more than ever... your eyes, even when you look at me in anger... I feel you."

_Keep this up and you'll feel me alright but not in the way that you're expecting…_

Indeed, the urge to punch him was strong and Marian might even have done it were it not for the uncomfortable questions such an action would provoke. One had to keep up appearances after all, and inflicting pain upon your former fiancé, however satisfying it might feel, was not fitting behaviour for a lady was it?

The sheriff and Gisborne had no such qualms of course, neither master nor servant had any trouble inflicting violence upon anybody and Robin had done a grand job of aggravating them – strutting around as if nothing could touch him – not a smart move by any standards and one that ended up costing him his home though fortunately not his life.

Not yet.

Though based on what she had seen so far, Marian reckoned he'd be lucky to see out the week…

_and he wonders that I think him a fool._

Fool or not, she could not wish him ill. Errant lover or not, she could not hate him. Frustrating, irritating, vainglorious as he was, she could never want harm to befall him. This wasn't because she still loved him because honestly folks she didn't, noooo, nonono, no not at all, nope, no way, absolutely not, not even a bit, NO.

* * *

_Well thanks a bunch Joe Lacey._

He might be an old friend but did he have to go asking questions like that? and make her feel… feelings…?

There Marian had been; all fired up - had got herself into a good old temper because Robin had assumed that the Nightwatchman had killed the sheriff's bailiff and then Joe came along and ruined it all by asking her if she still loved '_him'_ ("**No!**" _drat! err.... act casual... _"Who?") and before she knew it, she was in bed with her ex talking about old times.

Whatever else Robin and Marian might be, one thing they were not was dull. They'd gone from arrow aimed at head to pillow talk in bed in record time. Granted, Robin was only hiding in her bed and Marian was protecting him… nakedly… but that was an improvement wasn't it?

And who knows what was yet to come? They were united in a common cause and the more the sheriff pushed them, the more they pulled together to defeat him. With Marian fighting inside the system and Robin outside, surely they would be victorious?

Little did they realise the role the sheriff's new appointed master at arms was about to play in putting a wedge between them…


	31. Chapter 31

XXXI

"Did he cry?"

Sir Guy of Gisborne did not answer this question addressed to him by the mother of his child because he wanted to forget the lowest act he'd ever committed. Yes, his son had cried as he'd laid him down upon the forest floor but that hadn't stopped him from leaving him there. One might have thought that abandoning his own flesh and blood would've torn at his heartstrings but in reality it hadn't been difficult at all.

His heart had long since turned to stone.

He'd not wanted the child. He'd wanted to catch Robin Hood. To use his child as bait had been a way to kill two birds with one stone. Had he been able to let Vaisey in on the plot, he was sure the sheriff would've approved. Of course, he hadn't let him in on it because Vaisey knowing of his son's existence would've been far worse than leaving the child to the elements.

_Better off dead than a life with him… or with me for that matter._

All had gone to plan and for a short time he could congratulate himself on having outwitted the outlaws but as with all the stories he told himself to live the life he did, it was not long before the cold hard reality of what he'd done caught up with him and the voice that he had come to think of as hers would ask him why.

_It has been four years Francesca - will you never let me be?_

She would not.

And no matter what he did or said, how much he begged, cried, cursed and screamed at her, she never left him.

To be the man Vaisey needed him to be, he had to put his conscience to sleep but despite all efforts to do just that, she had become the part of him that called him out on his wrongdoings, confronted him with home truths about the direction his life had taken, reproached him for his despicable acts, cursed his weakness in following the man whose schemes had very nearly cost him his life.

It was her but it was not.

It was him but it was not.

In this strange way they had become intermingled; what was left of his twisted conscience and his memory of her.

_She was a ray of light… _

the only light he'd ever known since his parents had left this world – an incredible, wonderful, beautiful light that had managed to cut through the eternal shadow that hung over him…

but then that light was gone…

and the shadow had consumed him anew…

and all he'd been left with was this echo of her, this construct, this creation of his mind, this glimmer of light that was nothing compared to her – the real her…

Their time together had been achingly brief but it had meant so much to him and God in heaven how he wished he could see her again even if it was for just a moment… to have that light shine upon him once more…

He knew he didn't deserve it and dreaded to think what she would make of him now and yet this wish filled him with such painful longing he could hardly bear it.

She was his sweetest misery; a blessing and a curse, he was so glad he'd met her and at the same time wished he never had.

No, she would never leave him be; he never stopped asking her to but knew she never would.

* * *

His dreams were a mishmash of all that had been and all that had come to be. Old faces in new places. Old guilt mixed with new.

Francesca was a frequent visitor - something that was so bittersweet it had him yearning with every fibre of his body to dream of her and yet waking up in sobs when he did.

Then there was his family who also made a regular appearance, especially since he'd returned to the Gisborne lands; the remembrance of how they'd been persecuted made for harrowing dreams and brought out the absolute worst in him – his wrath towards the Locksley villagers knowing no bounds - something Vaisey enjoyed witnessing with sadistic glee.

Then there were the dead - by his hand or Vaisey's made no difference, indeed the line was often blurred when it came to who had done what to whichever poor victim and in the end it didn't matter much anyway because just standing by and allowing somebody to die was not much better than doing the deed himself…

which brings us to one dead man in particular who'd been haunting his dreams lately…

Perhaps it was because of the most recent hangings – the sight of Locksley peasants swinging from the gallows bringing back old memories or maybe even just Vaisey's incessant talk of hanging the man who'd saved them that had reminded him of that day all those years ago…

_He begged you and you did nothing… _

You may find it strange dear reader that one of Guy of Gisborne's biggest regrets was not helping the man who had (accidentally) poisoned him but it was. The parallels between them had always made him uncomfortable – the man had been a poor, helpless wretch when Vaisey had found him – just as he had been - promised the world, little knowing what price he would have to pay…

_We never stood a chance did we Willy? _

Pawns. That was all they were. Pawns to be bent and broken as desired. Guy had told himself a thousand times that if he hung in there long enough he would someday be more than that but deep down inside he doubted the day would ever come…

and as he had watched Willy die, the cries for help from the condemned man still ringing in his ears, a little voice had told him that this would be the way it would end for him.

Purpose served. Game over.

It was of course not the first time that Vaisey had done this to somebody - what had happened to Willy was nothing Guy hadn't seen before but it was the speed and magnitude of it that had disturbed him this time around.

That and what they did to his name.

_That_ was what got to Guy; they had not just hung the man, they had disgraced his name – Willy would go down in history as the man who'd tried to kill Prince John, even though it wasn't true and his family would have to live with that disgrace through the ages.

And why?

Because he'd been so unlucky as to get involved in a spat between two lords.

Guy wondered on what pretext he would someday be cast aside and what would become of the Gisborne name. That is why despite hating Vaisey for what he'd done, he redoubled his efforts to ensure that it wouldn't happen to him. He would not give his master cause to turn on him and would do whatever it took to rise before he did so. He even went so far as to put himself in the same position as the poor soul he'd let hang; he became an assassin and his mission was not to kill a lord nor a prince, no, far worse than that; his target had been the king.

The stakes had been high: power and freedom or death and disgrace. All he'd ever dreamed of or the stuff of his worst nightmares.

One chance.

He'd been unable to resist.

But as with so much in his life, nothing turned out as he'd expected.

Someone had stood in the way.

_ **Hood. ** _

_Next time the blade won't miss it's mark._


	32. Chapter 32

XXXII

"…So it came to pass just as the little princess had hoped and the king declared that they would all feast and be merry that day…"

Lady Francesca Cavendish trailed off, listening intently for the telltale signs that her niece was sleeping and gave a sigh of relief upon hearing the steady rhythmic breathing that told her the little one was in the land of nod. She did not yet put her in her crib however; knowing that to move too soon meant the child would wake and she'd end up having to start reading again, so she remained still and enjoyed the peaceful moment, holding the baby close, drinking in her tiny features, breathing in her scent and placing gentle kisses on her wispy hair.

Lady Catherine Watmough had turned one that very afternoon and the party held in her honour was predictably lavish; her mother, Lady Natalia Watmough had never been one to do things by halves and a splendid time had been had by all.

By late afternoon however, the joyful birthday smiles had turned to tired birthday tears and Natalia had found herself struggling with tending to her guests and her demanding offspring so Francesca had stepped in to take the child off her hands. It was a role she often fulfilled these days, not because Natalia was in any way lacking as a mother, indeed one of the most pleasant surprises for Francesca had been to discover that her sister was an excellent mother, it was merely that like many first-time mothers, Natalia tried too hard to be perfect at everything, particularly when it came to events such as this one.

Francesca was more than happy to help, she adored the child and caring for her gave her something to do, especially at parties, where she would normally feel useless. She smiled at her peaceful charge, glad to have finally lulled her into slumber – the little lady had been tired and cranky, wailing her woes into her aunt's ear and it had taken Francesca several attempts to get her to sleep but despite all that, there was nowhere else she would rather be. She loved to read stories to her, always had, ever since she was a tiny baby and though she knew that Catherine was too young to understand what she said, she could sense the peace that it brought the little girl and herself as well.

Reading stories also brought her closer to _him. _To her memories of doing the same with him. He'd always had the same trick as her niece; waking up just when Francesca thought he was sleeping…

Sometimes she liked to pretend that he was there with her and that Catherine was their child… she could just picture him coming home from a day's work, folding her into his embrace from behind, his beard tickling her neck, proudly looking over her shoulder at the baby. Sometimes she could almost _feel _him, his warm chest against her back, soft lips seeking that tender spot just beneath her ear…

Then she would snap out of it and the real world would come rushing back, bringing with it little more than a note to self to quit daydreaming but sometimes… for the briefest of moments, she would not know where she was and would look for him, wondering where he'd gone before realising…

Tears would come then and with them that awful feeling in her stomach that made her want to curl up and wither away.

The sound of Catherine's breathing always brought her back.

_I love you little one. More than you could ever know._

* * *

"I thought I'd find you here."

Lady Lydia Belmont tiptoed into the nursery and hugged her cousin tightly, happy to see her after a trip to court with Sir Thomas. She'd asked Francesca to accompany her but had known that, just as in previous years she would not – the memories of Sir Guy of Gisborne making it painful to return to the last place she'd seen him.

"Well you know me, be it horses or babies; I'll take whatever excuse I can to get out of a party." Francesca grinned knowingly at her cousin, pleased to find that she had arrived in one piece albeit late to the party.

"You're looking well." Lydia knew how Francesca hated comments about her appearance but couldn't help but mention it for Francesca was looking well, better than she had in a long time in fact, having gained a little weight the past few months, "Being an aunt is good for you."

Francesca was unable to refute this. She knew she'd been painfully thin, illness and stress having taken their toll upon her body - the result of constant self-exertion, trying to keep it together despite inwardly falling apart, forced to toe the line with her father despite hating him for what he'd done. The separation from Guy had cut her deeply, had touched every part of her and it was no wonder that it had diminished her physically just as it had mentally.

As Lydia had guessed, it was the child that made the difference. Not that she hadn't tried to pick herself up, lord knows how hard she'd tried but she'd needed something to lift her thoughts from the dark places they had gone to, to give her a reason to get up when she felt like she could not.

Lydia had done what she could, knowing she suffered but even with a devoted cousin at one's side it wasn't easy, especially when forced to play happy families at her sister's wedding whilst wracked with the grief of what she'd lost… what she could not have…

On the day, she had been all that a good sister should be but afterwards when all the guests had gone, she'd broken down. Her father, who'd never been one for tact or good timing, had then twisted the knife by declaring that he'd probably never be so fortunate as to see her wed.

Lydia had been the one to speak. She hadn't been able to herself, the pain of what he'd said completely floored her and she'd had to sit down to contain the force of her sobs.

"Well is it any wonder with you as a father!? **There was somebody for her!** And don't pretend you don't know of whom I speak! **HE** would have married her! But what did you do? You separated them! So don't you ever say that nobody would have her!"

It was the first and last time the subject came up.

Her father backed off. Lydia and Sir Thomas took her to Devon for some much-needed space to mend her broken heart. A fool's errand she now knew. It was there in the house of her cousin that she came to understand what it was everyone had warned her about. The danger in becoming too attached. The pain of separation. She knew it now, oh, how she knew it but had she known it then, would she have rushed so headlong into love? Would she have given him her heart so easily?

_ **Yes.** _

The answer was etched onto her soul. Unchanged after all these years.

She had loved him and would always love him no matter what. His touch was burned into her skin; his voice echoed in her mind, his eyes, his smile…

She could never regret loving him and knew with every fibre of her being the strength of her regard but it didn't stop her from agonizing over his role in the story. Her memories of what happened were as vivid as ever but her interpretation of them was ever changing. Some days she felt certain that he'd loved her as she loved him but other days she told herself that he'd only felt gratitude towards her, that he'd sought comfort, nothing more, that his illness had made him receptive to her… That he'd not been in his right mind, that their shared affection was a result of delirium similar to that which had at one point made him think she was his mother… That once his health had returned he'd most likely come to his senses and found another… somebody better… stronger… someone who wouldn't just up and leave without even saying goodbye…

Her stomach twisted in jealousy at the thought but surely it must be so. As handsome as he was, it was unlikely for him to have not found someone. He must have had dalliances with countless women over the years and how could those few days she spent with him compete?

_He'll not want to think of what happened back then, after all, who wants to remember being ill? _

She remembered hearing some years back that he had gone with Lord Vaisey to Nottingham, she wondered how it was for him there, if he had found his place in the world...

_He'll have a wife and children now. Just as it should be. I doubt he even remembers you._

Lydia coughed to bring her out of her thoughts and Francesca smiled reflexively to cover the sadness that washed over her whenever her mind went down that well-worn road. Lydia could read her like a book however and knew exactly what she'd been thinking of. She pulled her into a hug. "I missed you" she whispered and Francesca hugged her back.

"And I you."

It was in moments like this she was happy to be reminded that love was not everything; there was a lot to be said for the company of beloved relatives as well.

* * *

"If he loved you, truly loved you, he would've come for you wouldn't he?"

The words played over and over in Francesca's mind causing her to sink anew into dejected moods.

Natalia had not meant to be cruel, indeed, she had been more kind than Francesca could ever have imagined since leaving the house of their father, his influence upon her diminished now that she was married and in her own home, but at times the Natalia of old came to the fore and her comments were as biting as ever.

She was right - that was what made this remark hurt the most.

He would've come for her. He would've tried for her. He would've taken her away from this pretence of a life at her father's side where she could only feel like herself away from him – in her sister's or cousin's house, in the stables or nursery - anywhere but where he was. There was no quarrel. There was no fight. She bent to his will whatever it should be without protest but the effort it took drained her more than ever and where she once thought she could perhaps in time grow to love her father as a daughter should, she was long past that now.

Such hopes were naïve. As naïve as hoping for a knight to come rescue her from the coldness of her home.

She remembered the conversation she'd had with Guy about how "no father would want somebody with so little for their daughter" and had consoled herself in knowing that his motive for staying away was his situation but then as she'd learned of him going to Nottingham she'd begun to wonder. A spark of hope had kindled deep inside her and she'd dreamt of a day when he would come to her and deliver her from her existence such as it was, with her father.

_Why do we lose ourselves in fairy tales? Because we want to go to places far away… _

As the years passed, Francesca had not wholly given up on the fairy tale of a life with Guy or even just a chance to see him once more but she learned better to live with it, to not count upon it nor give up on all else that life could still offer her.

_If it is meant to be, it shall be._

Little did she know just how much her trust in fate was about to be shaken.


	33. Chapter 33

XXXIII

"I wasn't scared!"

If there was one statement that pretty much summed up how things were for Will Scarlett of late, it was this one.

And not just Will Scarlett.

Horrific things were happening and as brave as the people of Nottingham were trying to be, as much as they might deny being afraid in the face of the strange, terrible and new, all was not well that much was clear.

Be it death trap mines, carts bringing slaves to do the dirty work in them or Vaisey making merry at archery contests after sacking the entire mining workforce, there was much to confuse and confound, one could try to turn a blind eye but sooner or later even the hardiest of souls was confronted with something to fear.

Bearing this in mind, was it any wonder that Will was so wary? Turk flu might just be an invention of ignorant and superstitious minds but then again it might not. Who could you trust these days? Nobody seemed to be who they said they were. Nuns were not nuns, taxmen were not taxmen, and a boy from the holy land who had agreed to help them was not a boy. Indeed, based on what he'd gotten an eyeful of before being hit in the face with a branch she wasn't a _girl_ either.

_Quit thinking about it you perv._

If only it was that simple.

Was it possible, as carpenter, to invent some sort of device to force lewd images and thoughts from the mind?

_A mallet to the head might do it… _

_Allan or Much would oblige… _

_not John though, Christ I only want some sense knocking into me not my head caved in._

He sighed. It always came down to _that_ didn't it? At the end of the day, it didn't take much to get a man excited and he doubted that the others were much better. In fact, if the looks on their faces whilst Robin was getting some action with that so-called nun were anything to go by, then his reaction to seeing the newest member of their gang in all her womanly glory was perfectly normal. And Much could protest all he liked about that sort of thing but he'd hardly been looking the other way whilst Robin was canoodling either.

That got him to wondering what _she_ must make of it all, what she must make of them - a ragtag band of outlaws with their hearts in the right place but blood not always flowing to the brain. She could not think so unfavourably of them for she'd accepted Robin's offer to join the gang but then again what were the alternatives? Perhaps she'd been willing because she'd thus far known nothing but unkindness from people here in England, first and foremost as a slave but also as a saracen.

He swiftly dismissed the idea; she didn't seem like the type of person who would do anything she didn't want to, even when faced with hostility from ignorant and clueless sorts. She surely craved acceptance as did every man (or woman) but he couldn't see her settling for somewhere merely because she'd had a hard time elsewhere.

So perhaps it was their cause after all that had inspired her acceptance. The desire to go some good and help those in need. He admired her all the more for it and it was clear that she was going to be a great help to them.

Now he would just have to keep his mind out of the gutter and on the job.

_I'll err… see if there's anything needs fixing._

* * *

If there was one thing Djaq could say for herself, it was that it had certainly been an interesting introduction to life in England and it's people.

For one, the man who'd brought her to these shores seemed utterly godless (unless one considered excessive consumption of alcohol a form of worship that is). Then there was the one who'd thought her diseased and had been too terrified to bring her and her companions water. Luckily, he got over this once the leader of their gang talked some sense into him but then went to the other extreme of following her like a shadow and ogling her jugs whilst she was trying to wash. Then there was the fellow who suggested she renounce her God and pretend to be a christian as if it was perfectly easy to just shrug off one's entire belief system and embrace that of the country she'd been brought to in chains.

No wonder things were in such a state really, if what she'd seen so far was anything to go by.

She liked what it was the gang were trying to do though and their passion for the cause was contagious. Their closeness was also interesting, suggesting that they had been through much together and she found it good that despite the difference in their personalities they managed to pull together to fight against injustice…

and there was a certain satisfaction to be had in showing the men a trick or two…

_If only their king could be so receptive to all that my people could show him… think what we could achieve if we work together instead of fighting each other…_

* * *

It is funny that just as Djaq was musing on the dream of peace in the holy land, Much was thinking along similar lines.

He'd long since had his fill of war. He'd devotedly followed his master to Acre and never regretted doing so but the longer they'd fought, the less he'd understood what exactly they were trying to achieve. He'd thought that in coming home they would be reminded of what they'd fought for but the place he'd come home to was nothing like the one he remembered.

All he'd thought of on the journey home was the peace of a simple life - Robin had promised him Bonchurch and he'd envisioned himself happy there - he didn't need much; a roof over his head, a warm hearth, good food…

And where was he now? Hiding in the forest, constantly looking over his shoulder for, or on the run from guards and wondering if there was a way to make squirrel meat more appetizing.

It was a mess. One it didn't look like they would be getting out of anytime soon and it exasperated him that Robin acted as if it was all a game. But still he followed him. The thought of doing any other hadn't even occurred to him.

So he dreamt of peace. He knew it was naïve, that nothing he had seen whilst in the holy land pointed to it... but...... how wonderful would it be if they could somehow reach an agreement? Then King Richard could come home and put everything right again. God knows his people needed him - his absence was hurting them more and more each day.

How long could they keep living like this?

Roy was dead.

Murdered fighting for Robin Hood and their absent sovereign.

Is that what was to become of them?

Were they to die before peace would deliver them from their struggles?

* * *

Little John had not forgotten what had happened to Roy either.

He'd been a good man. John had liked him. He'd had a big mouth but a big heart too. The Sheriff had put him in an impossible position and yet even when faced with the death of his own mother, he'd not been able to kill Robin, instead he'd chosen to trust him – a move that saved the one he loved but ultimately cost him his own life.

It saddened John but made him proud. Roy had died so that his friends could live.

As he saw it, they owed it to him to keep fighting.

And not just him…

What of all the other poor souls suffering under Vaisey? What of people like his wife and son? Defenceless. Innocent. Just trying to get by. The hunt for Robin Hood had nearly cost his wife her tongue but it was also Robin he had to thank that she'd come through the ordeal unscathed. But what if the Sheriff had taken his son instead of Roy's mother? What would he have done then?

He despised Vaisey for playing with people in this way. For getting to people where it hurt them the most. There would be no peace so long as he was around.

They would keep fighting. They had to.

* * *

Allan-a-Dale had never been the soft sort.

He'd had to keep things practical. Let's face it, there wasn't much room for feelings these days was there? One had to stay sharp, God help you if the Sheriff or Gisborne caught you napping. He'd learnt that one the hard way; Christ, all he'd done was aim at a deer and the next thing he knew he was up for hanging.

And now…

now things were worse… so much worse…

He closed his eyes… could feel tears prickling at the back of his eyeballs…

_Tom._

One name. Three letters. That was all it took to wreck him these days.

"_He lives on inside of you."_

_Yeh. Thanks Djaq, not sure how useful that's gonna be to us though eh?_

His brother had been playing with fire, just as he always had – he'd been given ample opportunity to think the course of his actions through but had carried on with the usual shtick regardless. Nobody could be surprised at the end result really…

Except he was.

It was one thing to warn somebody of dire consequences; it was another to witness them. Despite knowing full well what Vaisey was capable of, (Roy's death and all that had led up to it still fresh in his mind), it had still been a shock of the worst kind to see the bodies of the hung men upon the ramparts and although Allan had known that in many ways his brother had had it coming, to actually _see _and _know_ that he was dead had cut him to the bone.

A mean voice in his head wondered that it hadn't happened sooner. The same voice expressed surprise that he'd been alive to see it – how many scrapes had he gotten into over the years? How many of late? Jesus, he was practically asking for it too but somehow he carried on…

just like Tom…

How to turn it around though when you're in too deep? He'd be lying if he said that he'd never considered bailing on his friends; what they were doing was dangerous and he had keen sense of self-preservation but…

he couldn't…

Robin had saved his life…

and the thought of going it alone again made him choke…

especially now…

and why should Vaisey get away with it? Yes, his brother was an outlaw and a thief but what was Vaisey? How could it be that a man who stole from those could spare it was sentenced to death and yet a tyrant who took from those who had practically nothing was running the show?

The system was against them. The law was an ass. The game was rigged. It was just like cups except this time he was the witless punter.

Well he didn't want to be the punter. He was tired of watching himself and everyone else lose.

_Never was one for the quiet life..._

_just like Tom._


	34. Chapter 34

XXXIV

"**Will. You. Marry. Me?"**

Guy knew Marian had betrayed him.

He didn't know how she'd come into possession of the necklace once more but he was not a fool. He knew what she'd done and what her punishment should be, but in that moment, when faced with the possibility of delivering her to her fate, he'd decided against it.

_Soft in the head as always. Would sooner bind yourself to a traitor than watch her hang._

He surprised himself in this for he did not love her; indeed his attentions towards her thus far had been merely to get the better of Robin Hood. Or so he'd thought. That had been the reason he'd become interested in her certainly, but lately he had to admit that things had changed.

It was her goodness perhaps. Her strength of character. Her open defiance of the Sheriff, in helping the people of Clun had impressed him, as had her bravery whilst receiving her punishment.

The call to continue the Gisborne line was strong, it always had been and now that he was back in possession of the Gisborne lands, the desire to cement what he had with a wife and child was stronger than ever.

_Perhaps stronger than reason._

Her betrayal stung. It rocked him to his core. He had a long memory where such things were concerned and was not sure that he would ever get over it which made his decision to protect her all the more surprising. He was at war with himself; torn between the part of him that longed to have her redeem him and the dark wish to exact revenge by forcing upon her the very thing she so obviously did not want, namely, marriage to him.

He'd realised early on that she was not inclined to think well of him. He had eyes in his head and had been through this before; the pull of attraction was no guarantee of affection, he'd learned that one the hard way but he'd hoped that with Marian things might be different; that in time she might come to feel differently.

Giving Hood the necklace and the location of the unguarded silver had changed all that.

He was done playing nicely.

Now he had her exactly where he wanted her and the more she resisted, the tighter his grip upon her would be.

_For better or worse Lady Gisborne._

* * *

To say that Marian was horrified at this turn of events was an understatement.

She kept playing it over and over in her mind, trying to figure out how exactly she'd gotten into this dire situation. She'd pushed her luck too far this time, she could admit this to herself now, she'd underestimated Guy and overestimated her ability to charm her way out of trouble where he was concerned.

Her only comfort was that at least she'd had the presence of mind to hold him at bay with a stipulation: the union would take place when the king returns.

It had been her saving grace for it was unlikely that King Richard would be returning any time soon, although to watch Guy strutting as proud as a peacock you would never think that she'd actually got one over him on this one.

_Men and their pride… put a pretty decoration on their arm and they think they're really something._

That was what this was all about Marian was sure of it. Guy could not want her for her mind, for the things she believed in - he scarcely knew her and up until recently had hardly paid her notice. How strange then that he'd gone from indifference to ardour in the short period of time since Robin's return.

_Bring a rival into the mix and see how it spurs them on. _

All she needed now was Winchester to turn up and make the sorry mess complete.

_Don't tempt the devil with idle thoughts Marian._

* * *

"I despise Robin Hood."

She didn't have to say that.

Gisborne never prompted her to make such a confession. He mentioned their betrothal yes, but had not forced her to denounce him. She'd said a number of hurtful things since his return and he'd been able to take it on the chin, understanding her anger towards him but this time she'd hit him hard and he'd been in a stupor ever since.

"He's not coming back anytime soon so you can put your mind at ease on that one."

God bless Much. He hated to see his friend upset and would do anything to cheer him. Even if it meant having to change his mind about something he'd been hoping for of late; the return of King Richard.

"I know." Robin replied, his agitation evident in the strained tone of his voice.

"And even if the king did come home, she'd not have _him_." Much didn't have to say who was meant.

"I'm not so sure Much."

"Oh please! As if she'd ever have feelings for that overgrown leather clad…" Much struggled, as so often, to find a suitable insult.

"Creep?" Robin offered.

"Yes exactly!" Much nodded his head encouragingly and it made Robin smile.

It didn't take long for him to sink back into dejection however. "She said she despises me."

"What!?" Much's eyes widened in shock. "When?"

"After she accepted Gisborne." Robin closed his eyes, remembering how galling it had been to hear her say the words.

"So she said it to him?"

Robin nodded.

"Well that explains it. She'd say whatever she had to to _him_ wouldn't she? Doesn't mean she means it though."

"That's just it Much, she didn't have to say it." Robin exhaled long and slow, weariness at the situation hanging heavy upon him.

"Well you know how it is with him and the sheriff don't you? They make people do and say all sorts of things…" Much began.

"Not Marian." Robin interrupted.

_Nobody makes Marian do or say anything she doesn't want to. _

It had always been one of the things he'd most admired about her.

"Yes but it isn't just about her is it? They've probably threatened Sir Edward."

That gave Robin pause for thought. If they were going to coerce her into anything then that would be the way to do it. Robin smiled gratefully at Much, glad that he'd raised that point. Marian _would_ do or say anything to keep her father out of danger and as relieved as he felt knowing that she most likely did not despise him, it hadn't changed the fact that now she was engaged to his enemy.

"Look I'm not a wise man, I can admit that…"

Much surprised himself with his own admission here and the look on his face paired with the words made Robin grin for although they were both in no doubt as to who was the brains of their outfit, it still took a great deal for Much to openly acknowledge it.

"… but if there's one thing I do know it's that she doesn't hate you and she doesn't love him."

Robin hugged his friend. He was truly the best man he'd ever known.

"Thank you."

Much hugged him back.

They'd find a way through this somehow. They always did.


	35. Chapter 35

XXXV

The atmosphere in the room was charged.

Marian wondered that nobody else seemed to feel it. Her father was so oblivious as to ask her what's wrong and had she not been so on edge she might have laughed.

_Everything is wrong. _

The moment she'd learned that Guy was planning on celebrating the king's birthday and that she and her father were to join him in the celebrations, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. To say that she'd smelt a rat was an understatement. They'd had to show their faces though; anything else was out of the question so despite acute feelings of dread and foreboding, Marian forced herself to play the role of dutiful daughter and polite guest.

The sight of their host in cheerful mood had not made her feel any better. On the contrary, everything about him made her feel as if her skin was two sizes too tight. That strange intensity that seemed to emanate from him was at fever pitch this day and if the way Winchester had always looked at her disgusted her, then the way Gisborne was looking at her positively frightened her.

Was it possible for two people to be more opposed? It was so obvious to her, the wrongness of their betrothal and yet he was so sure, so determined, so resolute - she wondered what, if anything, could bring him from it.

In the past, he had shown himself to be receptive to her views, open to suggestions or ideas from her, able to take a hint (even when dealt rejection). Alas, no longer - he was now so wilfully oblivious that not even a punch in the face would presumably wake him from the dream world he was living in.

_We shall both be miserable. Can he not see that? _

Was this about taming her perhaps? Forcing her to toe the line? And if so, what exactly was he prepared to do to make her? How far would he go? Worst of all, what would the sheriff make him do? She feared Guy but could at least hope for a modicum of compassion or lenience from him but Vaisey? Forget it.

The best she could hope for was that King Richard continued his campaign in the holy land for as long as possible and that Guy and the sheriff didn't make her life a living hell in the interim.

Speaking of which…

"My lords, ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for your attendance here today. As you know we're here to celebrate the king's birthday, we wish him every success in the holy land and we pray for his speedy return to these shores."

The look directed at Marian from Guy as he uttered these words made her feel deeply uncomfortable, she had an idea of what was about to happen but silently prayed that it wouldn't.

To no avail, for Guy raised a toast to their sovereign before announcing that which she would never in a million years care to announce: "I myself have a particular reason to hope for the king's early return to England, for when that day comes this fair lady, Marian, has consented to be my wife."

Cheering from the nobles in attendance - a surreal experience for the woman in question. One she had little time to dwell on though for Guy was keen on prolonging her torment.

"Before I toast to my future bride, there is something that I would like to present to her…" he produced a ring from his pocket and then in a moment of absurdity, asked permission to place the ring on her finger: "May I?"

"You leave me little choice." She gritted out.

"I thought you'd already made your choice." His tone was cold as ice - a glaring contrast to the warmth of seconds earlier.

"I have…"

Yes she had, but when caught between the devil and the deep blue sea you still have to make a choice. She'd made the best of it. She'd chosen him over taking her chances with the sheriff. She didn't like it though and were it not for her father, she doubted that she would find it in her to pretend that she did.

"This means so much to you doesn't it?"

_Why? Why does it? Why do you want this so badly when it is obvious that I do not?_

"This means everything to me. Have I not expressed myself? _You _mean everything to me."

_Oh God, please don't say that._

She glanced at the ring now firmly ensconced upon her finger and repressed the urge to squirm as he held her hand up to show everybody the symbol of their future union.

"My lords and ladies, I give you the future Lady Gisborne."

Cheers all round once more. Marian wondered if any of this was real. This was surely the part where she woke up, no?

"Did I miss the speeches?"

_Robin!_

Her heart soared and she bit back a smile as the goblet flew out of Guy's hand. Robin's arrow had hit it's mark perfectly, just as it always did. A moment later however, the urge to smile left her completely.

"I was just about to ask the same question…"

The breath stopped in her throat. _Oh God._

His voice was as oily as it always had been. She'd once thought that nobody could top Vaisey when it came to oiliness but here he was to remind her that in that respect, he was unrivalled.

"Uninvited guests! I had not thought myself so popular." Guy deadpanned, looking to the new arrival at the door. Marian was surprised at his composure but then again he was brandishing a nasty looking dagger and had not yet noticed Robin's men stealthily surrounding the attendees with the intention of ridding them of their valuables directly.

"Come Gisborne, we are old friends are we not? That is no way to greet a well-wisher surely?" The latest guest to the party stepped out of the shadows and Marian heard a gasp from her father, as he recognised him.

Guy scowled and was about to reply when Robin interrupted: "Good evening fellow gatecrasher, do come in and join our party, we were about to get to the main event…"

"Robin I warn you not to do anything!" The strain in Edward's voice was palpable, as was the tension in the air.

"Ah! You must be the former Earl of Huntingdon! I've heard so much about you from Sir Edward!"

Robin looked at the man as if he had a screw loose which he must have to be standing there chatting so genially just before they were about to relieve him of his finery.

"You are a friend of Sir Edward? Perhaps he was so kind as to mention my current line of work?" Robin turned to aim his bow and arrow at their talkative guest to emphasize his point.

He remained unimpressed. "No! He did not! But then it has been a long time since I was here last, I was saving my visit for a special occasion you know and well, today is the day!"

Guy narrowed his eyes. The gall of the man. To crash his party.

"You see Gisborne, I too have a happy announcement to make and you are lucky enough to hear it from me first…"

"Who in God's name are you?" Much interrupted, sick of the inane chatter.

"I, dear friends, am Lord Harold of Winchester and…" he dragged an unassuming looking girl forward to stand at his side, "I would like to present to you my fiancée, Lady Francesca Cavendish."


	36. Chapter 36

XXXVI

Silence.

Shrugs.

Somebody cheered but then promptly shut up.

Muttering.

A half-hearted attempt at a round of applause.

The majority in attendance at Locksley were wondering what they were supposed to do with this information. Winchester was nothing to them - known only in name or as a face in passing so why should they care that he'd gotten engaged?

Robin Hood and his men were thinking the very same, trading smirks and shrugs, each face an amused question mark.

Winchester was not in the least perturbed at the lukewarm response to his announcement for he was currently enjoying the scene before him immensely.

Sir Edward, ever the diplomat, was the first to collect himself and offer congratulations and Marian, grateful that Winchester would no longer be any trouble to her, did the same.

Winchester nodded in acknowledgement of their words but his eyes were elsewhere.

Namely, on Gisborne.

Marian frowned and turned her head to look at Guy. The air rushed from her lungs as she did so.

The look on his face was a mixture of shock and purest agony. She had never seen him like this before – so utterly undone. Winchester's announcement had completely floored him.

She followed his line of sight.

He was staring at the girl.

She was of a similar age to Marian and yet looked older. Thinner. Paler. Wearier. She smiled weakly at Guy. Her fingers fidgeting. Eyes apologetic. She was obviously fighting with her emotions but not as much as Guy. Marian wondered that she could stand the intensity of his eyes upon her for they were practically boring into her.

Marian glanced up at Robin to see if he was seeing this too. He was. He looked from Gisborne to the girl, fascinated by Guy's reaction to her.

"How do you like her Gisborne? I believe she was once a favourite of yours was she not?" Winchester's face was a picture of triumph as he snaked an arm around Francesca's waist and pulled her close to him. Marian felt herself shudder in revulsion and any relief at having escaped the unenviable fate of becoming Winchester's wife was now replaced by pity as she watched the poor girl struggling to conceal her own distaste at being so manhandled by the elder man.

She returned her gaze to Guy, interested to see how he would respond to Winchester's question. His expression was excruciating to behold, in particular his eyes, wide and unblinking, a window to infinite pain and confusion.

Suddenly he flinched.

Somehow he'd cut himself upon the dagger he'd been holding. Marian could hardly believe it; it was unlike him to be so clumsy. She'd fought against him as the Nightwatchman, so no matter what she might think of him personally, there was no denying his skill as a swordsman… which begged the question as to how on earth could he be so careless as to cut himself upon his own blade?

If her mouth had dropped open at that, then her jaw practically fell to the floor the next moment. In a flash, Winchester's fiancée was with him, standing in front of him, holding out a handkerchief to bind the wound. Guy jolted away from her, turning his back, clutching his hand to his chest.

"Please Guy." Her voice was soft and fraught with emotion. "Take it… please..."

Guy turned round slowly and hesitantly took the offering. He did not look at her; his eyes were fixed firmly on the handkerchief in his hand. He appeared to be more in control of himself now but Marian did not fail to notice the warring emotions upon his face; shock and disbelief, sadness mixed with anger born of wounded pride… but then he looked up and the look he gave the woman before him was one of such warmth and grateful tenderness…

Marian had never seen him look at anybody that way. Nor had she imagined him capable of it. If she'd had the luxury of time to think, she would've found it astonishing how little she knew the man she was to marry.

She didn't have that luxury though for Winchester interrupted any thoughts she might have had on the subject with his impatience. "Come now Francesca, your father will be here shortly with the sheriff and we want to be getting down to business don't we?"

"Not so hasty my lord, we have some business of our own…"

Robin was sorry to interrupt, curious as he was about what had transpired between Gisborne and the girl but he was chiefly there to do what Robin Hood did…

"Ah, this is the part where you'll be taking our valuables from us yes?" Winchester asked casually.

"Yes indeed my lord, this is the part where I inform you that my men and I have you all surrounded and it would be a great help to us if yourself and everyone present would hand over your jewellery and valuables to my good friend Much over there." Robin replied smugly, as if this was merely a part of the evening's entertainments and not in fact a robbery.

"Hmmm, then that would mean that this is where I inform you that it isn't going to happen for my men and I have the entire building surrounded." Winchester cheerfully announced; his smile easily as smug as the one that now disappeared from Robin's face.

On cue, Little John stumbled into the room having being shoved there by several guards.

"No signal today John?" Allan quipped.

"Would've. Didn't get chance." The big fellow testily replied, jerking his head in the direction of Winchester to signal the reason why he'd not been able to fulfil his role.

"Fabulous." This was Much's appraisal of this unfortunate development. He shot Robin a deeply unhappy look and just in case their leader was wondering where the blame should lie, he continued venting his frustration at their current predicament, "Why don't we celebrate the king's birthday too he says! Well, you can see where it's got us now, can't you master!?"

"Easy Much." Robin replied before lithely climbing down from the balcony, his bow slung over his shoulder. He strolled over to Winchester with the usual swagger, apparently unconcerned that he was about to be arrested. "On whose authority can you just walk into a man's house and threaten him and his friends? We haven't done anything to you, nor to anybody here as of yet so why don't we all just call it a day and go our own ways?"

"Well as much as I'm sure you'd like that, I'm afraid it's not possible for I am here on Prince John's authority and the men outside are his men."

There was a chorus of gasps from onlookers and groans from the outlaws. Winchester eyed his opponent with an infuriatingly self-satisfied smirk on his face, revelling in the knowledge that he had the upper hand. Robin kept his expression neutral, not wishing to give away how worried he was, and maintained eye contact with the lord. This tense interlude was only interrupted by the arrival of Lord Cavendish and Vaisey.

"Ah Vaisey, good to see you my friend."

The thunderous look on Vaisey's face gave everyone a good idea as to how the sheriff felt about seeing his 'friend'.

"Just in time for me to explain about how my visit came about…"

"Spare me." Vaisey muttered.

Winchester chuckled, thoroughly unbothered by any sentiment Vaisey might have, "You see Prince John has become very concerned about the situation here in Nottingham of late and so sent me to come and clear it up, what with you letting things get so out of hand..." He looked pointedly at Vaisey as he said this, leaving no doubt as to who he was directing his comment at.

"I am dealing with it!" Vaisey hissed.

"No my friend, as of now, **I am dealing with it**."


	37. Chapter 37

XXXVII

It happened in the blink of an eye.

One moment Winchester was laying down the law, the next the outlaws were giving the orders.

OK well, not outlaws plural, actually it was more a case of Robin explaining to Winchester how things were going to be whilst the others looked at their leader as if he'd gone completely potty.

You could hardly blame them though; this was their first kidnapping after all.

And even if Robin's quick thinking had tipped the scales in their favour, one had to admit that holding a knife to the throat of Winchester's future bride was a drastic move to get them out of a jam, not to mention brutal in a way that nobody had expected from the former earl, not least his cohorts.

"Oh Master please no! Anything but this!"

Unsurprisingly, Much was not on board with this.

"It's like I said Much, I don't want to hurt her and I won't if his lordship here does as I say."

It was the truth. Robin was no kidnapper, he hadn't wanted any of this but Winchester had backed him into a corner and it had been the only way out. It was desperate he knew, and judging by the horrified faces staring at him, (not a few of which belonging to people he cared about), it was a new low in his struggles against the powers that be, but there was no way in hell he was going to let Winchester arrest him so he'd taken the only chance he had to get him and his men out of there.

And let's face it, it's not as if they were playing fair either was it? They'd taken everything from him: his home, his lands and title, the woman he loved… and now they expected him to surrender quietly? No chance.

"Robin please, this isn't you…" Marian could not let him do this either and it tore at his heartstrings to hear her words but he tightened his grip on Francesca.

"No it isn't but it has to be. This is what they've reduced me to." Robin could feel Francesca trembling under his grip and it made him sick to his stomach. He was sorry to drag her into this for her only fault was that she was of worth to Winchester and therefore an effective bargaining tool but if everybody just kept their cool there was no reason that this confrontation should end in conflict.

Which brings us to one particular individual who was having great difficulty in doing just that. Something that intrigued and alarmed Robin in equal measure.

"If you so much as leave a scratch on her…" Gisborne was livid; anger rolling off him in waves. He didn't finish his sentence but then he didn't have to, his entire being signalled hateful intent.

"Easy Gisborne, keep your distance and she won't come to any harm."

"No, I can tell you that she won't for if she does this will have a very bad ending for you my friend."

Winchester's voice was calm but filled with malice and Guy could not help but be puzzled at this. Having got over the initial shock at Winchester having chosen the woman he loved to become his fiancée, he was now trying to figure out why. She had been nothing to him so how could this have happened? Winchester's interest in younger women was notorious and yet he'd always tended to go for the obvious candidates - renowned beauties such as Marian or Natalia Cavendish – so never in a million years would Guy have thought that Francesca, his quietly lovely, unassuming little mouse, would be the one to entice him. Were there other motives behind his choice? Had her father come to some arrangement with him perhaps?

"Look, as splendid a time as we've had here tonight, it really is time for us to be going so if you all just give us some space, we'll be leaving now…" Robin backed himself and Francesca slowly towards the door, gesturing with a jerk of the head to get his men moving.

Gisborne was spurred out of his thoughts at this and jolted forwards, dagger at the ready, all clumsiness long forgotten. "Let her go!" He hissed, fury bubbling dangerously just beneath the surface.

"Can't do that Gisborne, not until you back off and let us leave..."

There followed a tense lull as the outlaws slowly made their way to the door with Djaq heading up the rear, whispering "easy big fellow" as she passed the agitated knight.

Then all hell broke loose.

*

It was Vaisey of course.

Who else could it have been? All was going smoothly, just as Robin had hoped and then, as per usual, Vaisey had to go and put a spoke in the wheel.

One look at Gisborne had been all it took.

A fraction of a second later Djaq was taken.

Will Scarlett was a man possessed, lunging forward and screaming her name, it took both Allan and Much to hold him back.

"Not so funny when the boot's on the other foot is it?" Guy jeered holding his dagger up to her throat.

"Let her go!"

Guy tilted his head and then an ugly smirk spread over his face as he realised what Will had unwittingly divulged.

"Well Gisborne, I must say this party is really shaping up to be quite something eh? What have we had so far? Attempted robbery, attempted arrest, two hostage situations, one of which involving a wanted man who is in fact a wanted woman… You should celebrate the king's birthday every year!" Vaisey purred, sidling over to Djaq, his eyes giving her a lewd once over causing Will to surge forwards, nearly pulling over both men holding him in the process.

If Vaisey was concerned at this reaction from the outlaw he didn't show it and Gisborne didn't budge an inch. Winchester looked mildly amused and somewhat bored. The guards however were becoming increasingly nervous and one of their ranks getting too close to Little John resulted in an unequal skirmish between the gruff outlaw and the individual, who swiftly became a bleeding mess upon the floor.

The situation escalated rapidly from there as more guards came to their colleague's aid and Little John found himself fighting off several opponents. Allan rushed to help him, leaving Much to make sure Will didn't do anything stupid. Robin could see that things were getting out of hand and wisely decided it was time to call it a day before they all ended up getting arrested or worse. He whistled loudly to signal it was time to go and thankfully his men were with him, fighting tooth and nail to get out of there.

It was a blur of clashing swords after that, Vaisey yelling, Winchester directing his men, Much entreating Will to leave, Robin promising Will they would return for Djaq as he backed himself and Francesca out of the door…

and through it all Gisborne stood still as a statue, grip tight upon his captive, cold eyes fixed upon Robin, unblinking.

The gang might have been leaving but this wasn't over.

Far from it.


	38. Chapter 38

XXXVIII

"I'm getting too old for this!"

Allan was attempting to clean a wound on his forearm and muttering to himself. Little John wordlessly took the cloth off him and moved his friend to where the light was better before taking over.

"We're all getting too old for this!" Much declared to no one in particular, though the comment was probably aimed at Robin.

"We shouldn't have left her!" Will had been lost in a silent fury for their return to camp and now it was coming to the surface.

"We had no choice. We were outnumbered." Robin replied tightly.

"We should've done something!" Will hissed.

"What could we have done? There were too many and I had my hands full with her." Robin gestured to Francesca, who was sitting under a nearby tree, fiddling with the bonds on her wrists and ankles.

"We could've traded her for Djaq!" Will glared at their unwelcome addition.

"Yes and I would've but it's not like they gave us chance."

"Yeh, one of 'em went for John and then it was mayhem after that." Allan chipped in and Little John grunted an affirmative.

"And you…" Much rounded angrily on Will, "don't you ever make me have to drag you out of a fight again!"

"He took Djaq!" Will declared, as if this was the explanation and answer to everything, which for him it was.

"Yes he did, but we wouldn't have been able to help her if they'd taken all of us would we now?" Robin knew that Will had long since realised this but said the words anyway.

"We should go back for her!"

"No Will, it won't do any good right now…"

"Please Robin!"

Robin shook his head and gave his friend an apologetic look.

Will nodded but didn't break eye contact. "I think… I think I love her."

An awkward silence followed as all digested this information before Allan finally said what needed to be said: "We'll get her back y'know?"

"We will..." Robin confirmed and then turned his eyes to their captive, "and it wouldn't surprise me if Gisborne comes to us to make a deal."

* * *

"So err… what's your story then?"

Francesca didn't know whether to laugh or cry at this question from a curious outlaw with a freshly bandaged arm.

_Well… where do I start!?_

She was in a daze.

Had been ever since she'd laid eyes once more upon the man she loved.

Actually, it was more accurate to say that she had been ever since her father had declared that he'd found her a husband. She'd remembered _him_ of course, the man she was to marry, it had been a long time since he'd last come sniffing round her sister but he was in possession of a particular brand of creepiness that one didn't forget so easily.

Something else she hadn't forgotten was the argument between him and her father concerning his interest in Natalia – it was the reason he'd stopped visiting them all those years ago and no one in the Cavendish household had been sorry to see the back of him.

Then all of a sudden, he was back and the two lords were as chummy as ever. No one bothered to tell Francesca why, just as no one bothered to explain to her why a man who had barely registered her existence back in the day was now seeking her hand in marriage. Or why her father, who'd been so utterly horrified at the prospect of Winchester marrying his eldest daughter, had agreed to let him wed his youngest with heartfelt best wishes. She had always felt inferior to her sister and here was yet another reminder of her low worth in her father's estimation. _Nothing new there then._

Still reeling from the shock of her engagement, Winchester had then suggested that they accompany him to Nottingham to 'tend to a matter of importance for Prince John'.

That had been the kick whilst she was down.

As if it wasn't bad enough that she was to be so intimately connected to a man who, quite frankly, revolted her, now she was going to have to face the man she loved as Winchester's future spouse.

And so it came.

In the worst possible way.

The journey to Nottingham had been torture enough, what with her father and Winchester in good spirits, thoroughly unaffected by her withdrawn demeanour. Then at the castle, they had not been permitted to see Vaisey who was, according to a surly guard, "in a meeting and would be for the next hour" so Winchester had suggested a detour to visit his old friend Sir Edward of Knighton for he was keen to tell him the 'good news'.

It was there that Francesca's heart finally splintered into a million tiny fragments upon learning from a chatty servant that the lord and lady of the house were at Locksley "celebratin' the king's birthday an' there's talk of Sir Guy makin' an announcement 'bout 'imself an' our good Lady Marian if yer know what I mean…" *wink wink*

_So this is how it feels when all hope is lost._

If she'd been alone, Francesca would've curled up into a ball and wept an ocean, she was sure of it. She'd been steeling herself for heartbreak the entire journey; ignorant as she was of Guy's situation, she'd been left to imagine the worst, but it is one thing to imagine, it is another to_ know_. Her impeccable self-control had stopped her from collapsing but then again she'd been sitting in the carriage as she'd heard the words, had it been otherwise, she's not sure how she would've fared.

After that, all was a blur. Deep in thought and trying to keep a grip upon her emotions, she remained oblivious to the whirl of activity around her. It was only as the carriage jolted forwards once more that she wondered where they were going. As they approached the castle again, she gave a sigh of relief only to learn that they were not stopping, no, her father was to fetch Vaisey whilst they continued on to the party at Locksley that Winchester was suddenly most eager to attend.

As they approached Locksley, she'd felt herself becoming more and more agitated, desperately looking for a way out. An excuse to get away. Some way, _any way_ to remove herself from what was about to happen. She considered leaping out of the carriage and running away. Or throwing herself under the carriage wheels to save herself the pain of what she was about to go through. It was overdramatic she knew, but her heart was in pieces, her stomach in knots and every bone in her body was willing her not to go inside for she would surely die if she did and what was left of her poor soul would surely perish upon seeing him happy with another. She could not bear it. She _would_ not bear it. She would pretend illness…

Her future spouse didn't give her the opportunity. Indeed, she doubted he drew breath once the entire journey, wittering on about what an "excellent evening it was going to be" and "how much he was going to enjoy announcing their betrothal and steeling Gisborne's thunder".

As they came to a halt, he frowned, his eyes fixed upon the entrance to the manse. Then suddenly, without a word, he rushed out of the carriage and directed his men to surround the building. She didn't understand this. She hadn't understood why he'd brought the men in the first place and when asked, he'd given a vague answer along the lines of 'you can't be too careful these days'. She knew the men belonged to Prince John and so just assumed they had something to do with the mysterious 'matter of importance' Winchester was tending to for the regent. She watched a few of them tangling with an imposing giant of a man at the entrance to the house, subduing the rough looking fellow whilst the rest of their ranks surrounded the house, except a small group who stayed to keep an eye on Winchester and herself. Apparently satisfied, Winchester decided it was time to make his entrance and unceremoniously dragged her out of the carriage and to his side, leaving no room for protest.

Then before she knew it, she was on the doorstep of _his_ house, about to gatecrash _his_ party and she was frozen in a strange agony, the kind one feels just before something is about to happen and you don't want it with every part of you.

Then she heard **his voice**. The voice she had longed to hear for so long. The voice that had been/was/always would be her undoing in every sense of the word and her legs went to jelly. She propped herself up against the door frame and was grateful that Winchester had seemingly forgotten her for the moment to make his entrance alone. She kept her eyes to the ground and was oblivious to all but the sounds coming from inside so did not notice the big man who was staring at her nearby, peeking through the rows of guards keeping him captive.

Then Winchester began.

And lord how he began….. and she hated him so much for what he was about to do….. and then the moment she had dreaded for so long arrived and he dragged her inside, parading her in front of everybody to make his grotesque announcement.

And Guy was standing in front her. Staring at her.

_Oh God help me._


	39. Chapter 39

XXXIX

There is a concept known as the delusion of reprieve where the condemned man, immediately before his execution, gets the illusion that he might be reprieved at the last minute. This concept can also apply to an individual who is going through some sort of personal nightmare and desperately clings to the illusion of deliverance or escape, be it some form of rescue or change in circumstances for example.

Often there is no escape from one's own personal hell yet one hopes to the very last because facing reality is too much to bear. The mind chooses to believe in some other reality because what is happening cannot be real; there must be some mistake…

This was exactly what Guy went through upon seeing Francesca again.

She could not be Winchester's. She could not. What he was seeing was not real. Or he had somehow misunderstood because _IT CANNOT BE… _

She was his. Always had been. They were apart but they weren't. Not really. Oh sure, his brain knew that this wasn't true, but he wouldn't have it because she was part of him and always would be… so… she could not be **his – **she could not belong to **him**: that man who had very nearly killed him.

And deep down inside he had known that she was somewhere else and most likely with someone else but what with her being so far away it had been so easy to pretend…

He had so longed to see her.

He had _so_ wanted it…

and here she was… finally…

and God how he loved her…

and yet…

It was too much. His mind could not, would not, accept what was happening. He kept expecting someone to tell him that this was a joke, to say "Haha! Only kidding Gisborne! Had you going for a second there!"

but nobody did…

and then he looked at her... and knew it was the truth.

* * *

He was running on rage.

Hood had her. That was all he knew. She had been standing in front of him, his wonderful, beautiful girl, offering him her handkerchief to bind the wound on his hand, and then Hood had put his hands upon her – had held a knife to her throat! - and it made him murderous.

Then the idiot had the gall to look surprised when he'd taken one of his gang! Did he honestly think he was going to stand by and watch like some meek little lamb whilst he took her? Vaisey had known better as he always did, sometimes they could read each other so well it was eerie.

His master hadn't been able to stop him from going after her though. He had known that he would; had tried to block his way but Guy had merely shoved the outlaw at him and bolted for the door. Vaisey had been angry of course, but what cared he for that when they had Francesca?

He knew it was madness, that on Hood's turf he was at a disadvantage, that the forest was large and the outlaws were good at hiding but like the temperamental impulsive fool he could so often be, he was galloping off at breakneck speed before he'd even attempted to engage his brain in something approximating rational thought.

_Need to get to her._

Luckily, it didn't take long to find the man he was looking for: Hood was waiting for him - keen to have it out with him. Unluckily, he hadn't taken the time to think about how it might be best to handle the situation when he found him and so rushed headlong into a fight. Had he attempted a discussion about a trade, he might have found the outlaw reasonable but of course, that isn't what happened, he just stormed in there, a whirlwind of anger and adrenaline.

The outlaw on the other hand was cool-headed and more than ready for him. His skills with a bow might be the stuff of legend but he was certainly no slouch with a sword either, something Guy was to discover anew this day. Added to that, he had learned a trick or two in the holy land, one of his favourites being the art of misdirection. He had used it many a time when faced with a larger opponent and so it was now with Guy. He just had to hold up against the fury of the initial attack before he could distract him with an object, (in this case, a ring he'd surreptitiously swiped from their guest back at camp) and before the knight knew what had hit him, he'd been kicked in the face, was flat on his back and had a knife uncomfortably close to his throat.

"You won't kill me." Guy hissed.

"Oh I wouldn't be so sure of that." Robin's voice might have signalled smug amusement but the knife nicking the skin on Gisborne's throat signalled something else entirely.

Guy shifted uneasily but raised an eyebrow. "Look at the good and noble Robin Hood - whatever happened to being tired of bloodshed?"

"Let's just say you make it difficult to resolve our conflicts in any other fashion." The outlaw grinned in that infuriating way he always did and Guy felt his anger level rise another notch.

"You're no better; you fight dirty. You dragged an innocent girl into this…"

"Oh Gisborne, for someone with your record you're awfully sanctimonious, you're not going to pretend you care all of a sudden are you?"

Guy bared his teeth in an ugly snarl, "She did nothing and yet you put your hands upon her…"

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere…" Robin had already guessed that there was a history between the knight and Winchester's intended, Guy's current behaviour was merely a confirmation of that. "How about you tell me why that bothered you so much and perhaps I'll let you up."

"**No. How about you tell me where she is and perhaps I'll let you live.**"

Robin sighed and raised his eyes to meet those of the speaker. He was standing upon a nearby ridge looking pleased as punch with himself, crossbow at the ready, arrow aimed at Robin's head.

Though he'd only just met him this day, Robin decided he was heartily sick of Harold of Winchester already.


	40. Chapter 40

XL

If they thought she was going to talk then they could think again.

For one, one of _them_ had held a knife to her throat and dragged her to this godforsaken place.

Not really a good starting point for an informal 'getting to know you' type chat eh? and she was not one for being impolite either but from what she could gather, this band of misfits had just been about to rob Guy and his guests so they didn't count as people with whom she cared to converse.

It didn't matter as it turned out because nobody demanded that she speak; their leader was off elsewhere and the rest of them were so worked up after what had happened at Locksley that they were just talking for the sake of it more than anything else. It was interesting to observe them she had to admit and something she was keen to do because it kept her mind off Guy.

Well, actually it didn't.

Her thoughts returned to him constantly but she kept trying to steer them elsewhere because what she had seen of him had her terribly confused.

_He was so… different… so cold… and yet for a moment there, as he'd taken my handkerchief, he'd been him; the man I remember._

_Wait. _

_Stop. _

_What is that man doing with that… thing? _

_Good lord… is that a squirrel!?_

"I don't blame you for not talkin' to us, I mean; we must look like a right motley crew eh?"

_You're not wrong there._

"I, for one, just want to say that despite what you might think, we are not barbarians!"

_You do realise that you have a knife and a butchered squirrel in your hands don't you?_

"You and whatshisface, are you mates with the sheriff then?"

_No. I'm not even mates with 'whatshisface'._

"Not if the look on Vaisey's face was anything to go by." This came from the dark haired one, who, for the most part, had been silently sulking.

"Yeh, he had a right face on 'im - weren't the only one neither – I mean, what the hell was going on with Gisborne?"

_Good question. _

_What was going on with him? _

_I wish I knew. _

_There was once a time when I knew exactly what was going on with him but those days are gone and now he's… well… he's another person. Somebody I don't know. _

"Didn't seem any different to me." This came from the big man who'd contributed so little to the conversation that Francesca had forgotten he was there. Her eyes widened in shock because her thoughts on the subject were so far from what he'd just said she could hardly believe it.

"Yes, well, we all know him to be horrid."

_What? What are you talking about?_

"Horrid? Can't you think of a stronger word for 'im than that Much? I mean we are talkin' about Gisborne here yeh? Torturin', Murderin'..."

"Baby abandoning…"

The list went on and on, each outlaw adding another horrific adjective but Francesca couldn't hear anymore, her brain had tuned out and she was finding it hard to breathe.

"Shit! You alright?" It turned out that the chatty one was not only talkative but observant as well, for he'd noticed her distress immediately. All she could do was shake her head in answer whilst desperately struggling to get air into her lungs.

He rushed over to her and in her panic she flinched away from him. "Hey… it's alright, I'm not gonna hurt you…" worried blue eyes were upon her but she didn't pay them any heed for she was more concerned with the fact that her vision was greying out. "John! Grab us some water will ya? I think she's about to keel over!"

He wasn't wrong.

She hadn't been eating or sleeping properly since her father had told her she was to marry Winchester and then there had been the distress of knowing she would see Guy again, as Winchester's intended…

Then came the carriage journey from hell, which culminated in learning of Guy's engagement – a detail that ensured her nerves were shot before she'd even seen him…

then she _had_ seen him… and he was so… altered... it troubled her to the depths of her soul…

and now she'd been kidnapped and these men were saying those things about the man she loved.

Was it any wonder that it had all gotten too much for her?

*

When she came to, the first thing she noticed was that she was being held up by strong arms.

She squirmed to get away and found herself looking into kind brown eyes. It was the big man. He smiled shyly as he took a canteen from his belt and passed it to her, "Here, you should drink this."

She looked at him warily before taking a sip of water. It was then that she noticed that her wrists and ankles were no longer bound. This, coupled with the concerned glances from her captors made her wonder who exactly these men were.

"Looks like someone's back with us!" That was the chatty one.

"Oh Thank God! Had me worried there for a minute!" This came from the one who'd been 'preparing' squirrel earlier. He offered her some berries, which she tentatively accepted.

"Your first kidnapping too I gather?" This was from the one who'd been sulking but now seemed better disposed towards her.

She nodded and smiled weakly.

Then his words sunk in. _Wait… What?_

"Believe it or not we're not ones for this sort of thing either."

_Excuse me?_

"Nah, it's not like we go draggin' fine ladies to our humble dwellin' every Friday or so…"

_Oh come off it, you'll be telling me you're regular stand up fellows next!_

"We're just ordinary blokes y'know?"

_Ha!_

"We do it for the poor..."

_What? Kidnapping people!?_

"…with the sheriff and Gisborne, they need whatever help they can get…"

_Wait... Are you trying to tell me that what happened this evening was some sort of 'good will gesture'?_

She shot them what she hoped was a dubious look but it must not have come across that way for the men were looking very worried again.

The last thing she heard was the chatty one telling the big man to go fetch someone called Robin.


	41. Chapter 41

XLI

"It won't work."

Guy couldn't fault Hood's logic but there was an obvious flaw in his plan.

"Shut up!" Robin hissed whilst backing himself and the taller man away from Winchester. He couldn't believe that for a second time this day he'd been reduced to taking a hostage.

"Do I have to spell it out for you? He doesn't care about me: he will just shoot us both you idiot!"

Ah yes, he had a point there.

A point that was proved right as seconds later an arrow sailed past, narrowly missing both of them. Either Winchester was a bad aim or that had been the warning shot. The smirk on the lord's face suggested the latter.

Well this was a conundrum.

He could stay put, which meant that Winchester would most likely shoot Gisborne because he was currently doing an excellent job of being a human shield but then there was the problem of the two guards who'd accompanied Winchester and were now approaching them from both sides. Or he could drop Gisborne so-to-speak and make a run for it but then that would mean he'd end up being pursued by Winchester, the guards _and_ Gisborne.

What he decided on in the end, (and not a moment too soon), was to twist himself and Gisborne round to face the guard to his left before forcefully shoving Gisborne at him. As the duo toppled over, he then turned his attention to the guard to the right and swiftly put him out of action with a hefty punch to the face. He then relieved the man of his shield and it was a good job too because an arrow promptly landed smack bang in the centre of it. He cursed at Winchester before gathering his wits to face Gisborne.

As it happened, he was spared the trouble.

The troops had arrived.

He looked up to see Much competently dealing with the guard Gisborne had landed on. Nearby, Will had already knocked out Gisborne and was stood glaring at the man lay prone upon the ground. The cherry on the cake though was the satisfying sight of Little John smashing Winchester in the back of the head with his staff before growling "Him, I don't like."

"I was dealing with it you know!" The archer quipped, and despite the bravado, his enormous grin spoke volumes of his happiness to see them.

"Yes of course you were." Much said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

This was no time for banter however - more guards were coming up over the ridge where Winchester lay. Little John sprinted away from them, towards his friends and Robin directed him and Will to grab Gisborne whilst he and Much held up the new arrivals. Winchester would've been a better prize but Robin was hardly about to pass up the opportunity of taking Gisborne either.

_We're not done yet_

* * *

"What happened? What have you done to him?"

The inhabitants of Sherwood forest were surprised to find that their guest had not only got over her bout of light-headedness but was no longer mute.

No one was more shocked than Allan, who'd been tasked with keeping an eye on her whilst the others went to fetch Robin, and had been hoping to coax a word or two out of her whilst they waited. It wasn't to be. Instead, it was the sight of an unconscious Gisborne being hauled into camp by Little John and Will that inspired this sudden improvement of health and desire to speak.

"Table leg to the head is what happened to him." Will answered casually, as if he were merely giving her the time of day.

"Oh! So that thing is a table leg is it?" Much chuckled, "I've been wondering about that!"

"Weapon of choice for me these days." Will replied, proudly brandishing said object and the men were grinning and patting him on the back as if he was a fine fellow, which to them he was.

Francesca felt differently however. She was fuming. "Excuse me, but are you telling me that you hit him over the head with… a piece of furniture!?"

"Well he is a carpenter!" Allan joked and everyone groaned.

Everyone except Francesca that is, who looked like she might 'table leg' Allan any minute. In his defence, he did have the decency to look sheepish, not for very long but yeah…

Much had been about to say that strictly speaking it hadn't been a piece of furniture but actually a piece of a piece of furniture but the crestfallen look on Francesca's face stopped him from doing so.

"Why would you do that?" Her voice, which was thick with tears, was like a cold shower over the jubilant mood of the outlaws at having captured their enemy.

Robin was the first to snap out of it. Her behaviour was so strange as to be practically offensive to him. He stormed over to Gisborne and began tying him up, "Do you know who this is?" he shouted.

Francesca shrank into herself; she had not expected to be yelled at. She nodded in answer to his question.

"Oh you do, do you? Well then you would know that this man is responsible for despicable crimes against the people of Nottingham then wouldn't you?"

Francesca had no idea what he was talking about, that much was obvious from her pained expression.

"Was it not enough for you at Locksley? Did you not see what he did to one of our gang?"

She was about to protest that what Guy had done was no worse than what he'd done to her but the outlaw was not done with speaking yet.

"Did you know that the house in which he proudly announced his betrothal was my house? That he took it from me? My home! My lands!" Robin was now dragging Guy towards a tree and Little John went to help him but upon seeing the furious look upon his face, thought it best to leave him to it.

Francesca was shaking her head;_ there must be some mistake…_

"And that he and the sheriff have done nothing but terrorize the people of my village? My people! Cutting off hands, cutting out tongues, hanging peasants for minor offenses…"

The words rained down upon Francesca like blows but still Robin continued and all the while, he roughly tied the unconscious man to the tree, so tightly that were he conscious, Francesca was sure it would hurt, and she wanted to look away, to cover her ears, to somehow make it all stop.

"I mean look around you! Did you get a good look at the people of Nottingham on your way to the party?" Robin was striding towards her now, his anger in full flow, words tumbling out of him fast and loud, "They are poor! Taxed to the hilt! Hungry and desperate! and look at us…!" His arms were outstretched gesturing to his men, "Look at where we are living! Do you think we wanted this? Do you think I fought five years in the holy land for this!?"

A heavy silence hung over the camp. Francesca kept her head bowed but out of the corner of her eye could see one of the men (the one she now knew as Much) moving over to the leader and placing a hand upon his shoulder. He was not to be comforted however, standing rigid with arms folded, shaking his head, "And don't get me started on what he's doing to Marian…"

"Robin. Stop."

The voice came from behind them. Everybody turned to look.

"It's not her fault."

It was a strange voice and it belonged to an even stranger looking person. Francesca thought she'd seen everything this day but no, here was something else to prove her wrong. Well, _Somebody_ else to be more accurate – a somebody wearing a mask and cape…

_Am I dreaming? Could it be that when I passed out, I never came to?_

* * *

Guy smiled lazily.

He _was_ dreaming and it was heavenly.

He leant forwards to capture her lips with his own and found that he could not. He tried to raise his arms but it wasn't happening. She was staring at him now, a shy smile upon her lips and oh god how she undid him.

_Kiss me please…_

"Shhh… don't struggle, you'll hurt yourself even more."

The pain hit him then. A stinging pain at the back of his skull. Once more, he tried to raise his arms and it was then he saw the rope tightly wound round his body and realised this was no dream but in fact a waking nightmare. "Where…?"

"We're at their camp." Francesca whispered, her voice soft and sad. She hated that she had gotten him into this.

"No!" He snarled and strained against his bonds, his face contorted with anger. "Hood! Let me go!"

In his frustration, he banged his head against the tree and white-hot pain surged through him. Francesca winced in sympathy, "Shhh…" She moved to clean the wound at the back of his head again but he was like an injured animal, twisting away from her. "Guy please don't, you'll just make it worse…"

He looked at her then, with eyes so vulnerable it made her ache. She remembered that look. Lord, how she remembered… she closed her eyes and there he was - her poor sick man, poisoned and feverous, half-mad with fear.

But he wasn't her man.

He was someone else's man. Someone who was probably worried sick about him.

_Yes Fran, overstepping the mark here aren't we? Don't think his lady would be too pleased to see you with him like this eh?_

It was at that moment she realised that the entire camp was watching her. She blushed and bowed her head before resuming her task. Guy continued struggling but after a short time became still just as she had known he would.

_That's it my love, you remember this don't you? _

She mentally cursed herself again. He wasn't her love. He wasn't even hers to clean up but in her distress upon seeing his injuries she had begged the men to let her, had even told them that Guy would be easier to handle if they let her and now here she was…

She sensed movement to her left. It was the leader and the masked man, returned from a private discussion somewhere outside camp. They were staring at her as well, wearing the same shocked expressions as their comrades nearby.

_What? I'm not going to run if that is what you're worried about._

Needless to say, that wasn't what they were worried about.


	42. Chapter 42

XLII

Vaisey had not thought that Winchester's presence on his turf would afford him the slightest enjoyment but watching the lord return from a trip to the forest with only a sour expression and sore head to show for it, made him happier than he could say.

"So this is you 'dealing with it' is it?"

"Go to hell."

Winchester meant every word. If it was one thing he detested it was Vaisey and if there was one thing he detested even more it was Vaisey in smug git mode.

"Aww don't be like that Winny, I was just wondering how a few outlaws managed to put one over you, what with you taking a small army of Prince John's men with you."

"The same way they put one over you every other day." Winchester gritted out in reply.

Vaisey's expression darkened but he was in too much of a good mood to let the comment bother him for long. "Oh come my friend, you're just upset because they took your lady… or should I say Prince John's lady?"

The shifty look on Winchester's face was deeply satisfying for Vaisey to behold; surprising others with his ability to second-guess their motives had always given him a kick.

He had to admit he'd been surprised to learn of Winchester's choice for a bride, he had of course remembered the girl – had seen the effect she'd had upon his lieutenant and the prince even if he hadn't been able to understand it, but like his right hand man, he'd been puzzled as to why Winchester wanted her. It was only as Winchester told him that Prince John had sent him to Nottingham that Vaisey put it all together.

He meant to give her to him.

Winchester had always been one to stoop low to curry favour and this fitted perfectly. He was already pandering to the prince to muscle in on Vaisey's job, but the girl, well, that was a very intimate gift wasn't it? A gift that would inspire great generosity on the regent's part.

Yes, Vaisey could just picture how it had been; Prince John reminiscing about a lost chance with a lady and Winchester filing the information away for later use… Rumours circulating about outlaws in Nottingham and Winchester suggesting he 'deal with it' for his prince…

Vaisey could almost admire the cunning of his rival if it weren't for the fact that it was what _he_ had that he was after - what the prince had given to _him_.

_I see through you. _

_I know exactly how you work… _

_and I'll see you dead before you take what's mine._

"But don't you fret; we have our little friend in the dungeon - a good bargaining chip if ever I saw one, courtesy of my good self."

This wasn't strictly true, actually it had been Gisborne who'd gotten hold of that 'bargaining chip' for them but Vaisey cared little for details of who or what when there was credit to be claimed for something.

"They have Gisborne as well…"

"It makes no difference. If they want the saracen back then they will give me whatever I want." There was a sinister truth to this that Vaisey did not have to elaborate on - that he was ruthless was well known; he was not above lopping bits off their captive if need be, something he knew Hood would not have the stomach for, not even with Gisborne sitting pretty in his forest den.

Winchester nodded; they were on the same page then. Vaisey was about to go into details of how he would like this to pan out when he saw his jailer hovering nearby. He didn't know what he was here to discuss but he'd put money on it having something to do with their newest dungeon resident.

* * *

Heathen magic had a lot to answer for.

In this case, it was the reason that nothing had gone to plan for the sheriff.

You see, as far as he was concerned, the trade had gone wrong. What he had wanted was _all_ _of them_. He wasn't content with the return of Gisborne and the girl, no, what he'd tried to do was take the rest - to keep them in the castle and have the guards arrest them.

But then his hostage had burnt him when he wouldn't hand her over.

Unbeknownst to him, (and his jail staff) she'd had some substance hidden upon her person and he'd come to learn of it in the most painful way possible. To add insult to injury, she'd then performed some other devilry to create a smokescreen and sneak the outlaws out of there.

His jailer had warned him of her strange behaviour but it had been a long day and he hadn't wanted to hear it... and now here he was; back to square one. It was galling.

All it had taken was one look at Gisborne for his temper to skyrocket. As so often, this wasn't his fault, but Vaisey had to give somebody the blame and since he was already angry at him for stupidly galloping off to rescue the girl and getting himself caught in the process, that made him as good a scapegoat as any.

And so it came to pass that Cavendish, Winchester and Francesca looked on in astonishment as Vaisey threw a monumental wobbler and the guards hauled his lieutenant off for a night in the dungeon.

Guy accepted his punishment without protest. He would've done so no matter what the circumstances but something had occurred during the outlaws' escape that was going to make the sheriff very angry indeed.

Hood had seen his tattoo.

Weakened after his involuntary sojourn in the forest, he'd made a hash of impeding his enemy's bid to escape and his sleeve had been torn in the altercation. Now he was going to have to break this to the sheriff and hope that he didn't cut his arm off.

_As if things hadn't been dire enough._

* * *

You'd think that considering the events of the day at Nottingham dungeons, the staff would've had the place in lockdown but no, as Francesca made her appearance in the vaults that night, she had absolutely no problem whatsoever getting in there.

All it took was a smile and a plate of biscuits. They didn't even search her. She could've smuggled in anything; acid, poison, a knife… a table leg had she'd been so inclined, but no, she didn't for she had no ill intent, she just wanted to see Guy.

She'd been wise to wait till nightfall, to avoid the suspicion of her father and Winchester and the catcalls of the dungeon inhabitants (all conked out after a day of torture or whatever) and found the knight in the furthest cell looking appropriately miserable.

He sprang up from where he lay and approached the bars.

"What are you doing here?" It appalled him that she had come here of all places, wide blue eyes piercing her with an angry stare.

It was not quite the welcome she'd been hoping for but in a way it made her nostalgic; here she was again, sneaking around to visit him and there he was; as grumpy as ever.

"I've come to see you." She smiled in the hope it might soften his temper.

It didn't. His frown deepened. "Why would you do that?"

_Because I love you, you idiot. _

"I wanted to see if you're alright."

He didn't say anything to this but he didn't have to, his features twisted into an sarcastic glare as if to say 'well as you can see I'm super-duper, thanks for asking.'

She swallowed nervously, yes; it was perhaps silly of her for how alright can one be after all that had happened that day? Still, she could not help but wonder…

"Have they hurt you?" She gestured with a flick of the head in the direction of the jail staff.

He said nothing, which coupled with numerous bruises and the haphazardly bandaged forearm he held close to his body was answer enough.

"I'm so sorry Guy, I didn't want for any of this to happen, I wish he'd never brought me here but I had no choice." She was on the verge of tears now, she'd been wanting to say this since the beginning but everything had happened so fast and then in the forest everybody had been watching her so closely, she hadn't felt comfortable to say the words.

Guy seemed to soften at this. He believed her; he knew she would never have wanted them to meet again like this, just as she would never have chosen Winchester. Her life was not her own – it never had been, in this respect they were so similar it pained him.

"Did he even ask you?" He didn't have to say any more, they both knew of whom and what he spoke. Francesca shook her head. No, there had been no marriage proposal; her fate had been decided by others just as it always had been.

"I'm sorry."

She kept her eyes to the ground to spare herself his look of pity. She sighed deeply before plastering an overly cheerful grin upon her face and changing the subject. "So err… is it always so lively in Nottingham?"

"You have no idea." The way he rolled his eyes was so _Guy _it made her chuckle.

"Who are those men?" She was serious now, she'd not yet had chance to hear his side of the story.

"Criminals. Thieves." His voice was low and tight, his jaw clenched.

"Their leader said you took his house from him…"

"Their leader is a fine one to talk about taking things from people."

The venom with which he spoke these words made her shiver. She remained silent in the hope that he would elaborate but he did not. An awkward silence followed before he finally whispered, "You should go, this is no place for a lady."

She nodded. There was so much more she wanted to ask him but could tell from his expression that he was in no mood for discussion. She sighed and then the words came tumbling out before she had a chance to check them,

"I wish I could help you."

It was an echo of that which he'd once said to her and it made him ache like never before. They stared at each other with a sadness that could not be expressed in words, both wishing this was another time and place and that everything had turned out differently.

Then the moment was gone and she whispered goodnight.


	43. Chapter 43

XLIII

If Francesca had found it difficult dealing with her father and Natalia, then that was nothing compared to dealing with her father, Winchester and Vaisey.

The sheriff had begrudgingly taken them in at the castle - could do no other since they were there on Prince John's bidding but it was fair to say that he wasn't a pleasant host. It was also fair to say that her future husband wasn't a pleasant guest and so the two men spent much of the day sniping at each other like a pair of old women. Her father had once been good friends with Vaisey; this arrangement came to an end however, as soon as Vaisey discovered his allegiance lay with Winchester.

The atmosphere was one of latent animosity and added to this was Vaisey's continuing punishment of Guy. Francesca had hoped that his spell in the dungeon would be just the one night but Vaisey declared he had no desire to see the younger man at present and so he was to remain in his cell until his master's mood improved.

Francesca knew there was no way in which she could ameliorate the situation and so decided that the best thing she could do was make herself scarce. Fortunately, the grumpy old men were too busy licking their wounds and plotting their next move to care much about what she did so she was free to go catch a breath of fresh air, (so long as she took a couple of guards with her that is).

A servant informed her it was market day in Nottingham and she figured it wouldn't hurt to take a look, perhaps she could find something for Guy, though in his present situation she doubted he would find much comfort in trinkets… but still, you never know…

She quickly found herself overwhelmed. The market was meagre - the people of Nottingham had little to sell and were desperate to sell it, bombarding her from all sides with their wares. She made the mistake of looking at a scarf a second too long, which was an open invitation for the seller to thrust her entire selection at her and rattle off the usual sales patter.

Luckily, she was rescued.

"Good day Lady Francesca, found something you like?"

Unluckily, it was Guy's fiancée.

Well, this was awkward.

Here she was with an armful of scarves, one of which she was considering buying for this woman's fiancé and what had seemed like an innocent gesture to cheer a man in the dungeon, (and improve his taste in scarves because let's face it folks, that yellow thing he currently had round his neck was not the most flattering), now felt very wrong indeed.

Marian noticed her unease and knew the reason why. She'd already guessed why the garment had caught her eye and it wasn't because she'd puzzled at Guy's taste in scarves herself…

No, this woman was in love with him, that was as plain as day.

What Marian couldn't get her head round was why. Putting aside the most obvious reason; the fact that he was strikingly handsome, Marian could not think what he had to recommend him. He was moody, difficult to talk to, bad mannered (pointedly so in his dealings with servants or villagers), permanently frowning or scowling… Yes, he had at times proved himself gallant by her but clumsily so – his gifts and compliments were offered with the awkwardness of a youth. His attempts to get closer to her were strongly at odds with fits of temper that genuinely frightened her and that wasn't even scratching the surface of what he did for the sheriff.

Not ten minutes before he proposed to her, he backhanded her father. That pretty much says it all doesn't it?

And yet… she doubted she would ever forget the way he'd looked at Francesca as she'd tended to him in the forest nor how she'd looked at him. It had been shocking to find them that way, especially after all that Robin had said in his angry outburst but there they were; as tender with each other as lovers and it had horrified and intrigued Marian beyond measure.

_How can she…? How can they…? How are they… still…? _

She could not know him. That was the conclusion Marian had come to in the interim. Robin had all but spelled it out for her with his rant about Gisborne but how could she take his word for it? That was exactly what Marian had been trying to tell him as she'd taken him out of camp. He'd terrified her – had behaved no better than the man he'd complained about – let's face it, robbery and kidnapping don't exactly make a compelling argument for your cause do they?

Now here they were at Nottingham market and Francesca was as in the dark as ever. Marian had a burning need to rectify this.

"I'm sorry milady; we've not been properly introduced, I'm Lady Marian of Knighton. Perhaps you would care to join my father and I for dinner?"

* * *

It had seemed like a good idea at the time but oh, how Marian was regretting it now.

In her fervour to learn more of Francesca's relationship to Guy and open her eyes to the true nature of whom they were dealing with here, she'd forgotten something rather important: that her invitee was engaged to Harold of Winchester.

Not two hours later, she was reminded of the fact as he turned up on her doorstep with Lord Cavendish and Francesca in tow. Francesca's apologetic tight-lipped smile said all that needed to be said as to whose idea it had been. Her behaviour throughout dinner only confirmed that had she been able to attend alone, she would have, and Marian figured that the guards who'd accompanied her to market had been the ones to inform Winchester of her dinner plans.

Luckily, her father was so good as to do the heavy lifting when it came to dealing with Winchester, something Marian was eternally grateful for, as she detested him with a passion. She wasn't to be spared his attention however, for Winchester seem to flaunt his engagement as if to suggest that in rejecting him, Marian was now missing out on something. To say that this made everybody uncomfortable was an understatement.

"You're getting married as soon as you're done here you say?" Sir Edward asked politely.

"Yes, once I've wrapped everything up - business before pleasure so to speak…" Winchester smoothly placed a hand upon his fiancée's as he spoke, though he stared pointedly at Marian.

She felt as if she might throw up. Francesca, in a display of self-control that left Marian astounded, merely focussed upon the meal before her as if it held some secrets to the universe whilst Winchester continued talking about wedding plans as if she wasn't even there.

"I don't care much for a large wedding but I doubt it can be avoided what with Prince John in attendance." Winchester chuckled whilst nudging Lord Cavendish jovially and it was then that a reaction came from Francesca. Her fork fell from her fingers and clattered loudly upon her plate. The shock and surprise on her face was unmistakable.

"Must you always be so clumsy?" These words from Lord Cavendish, practically the first he'd said all evening, coupled with the angry tone were all Marian needed to know as to what had happened here.

Well, actually no. She'd known all along. No woman in her right mind would accept Winchester so this was always how it was going to be wasn't it? She'd only managed to avoid a union with him because her father respected her wishes, for Francesca however, it had been another story.

As Marian watched her whispering apologies to her father, the pity she felt deepened. The arrangement was taking it's toll on her, that much was obvious from her gaunt appearance but this news of Prince John seemed to have made things worse.

She excused herself, declaring that she was no longer hungry and could do with a little air. Marian, never one to let an opportunity go to waste, declared she would like to show her the garden. Winchester seemed irritated but Sir Edward was encouraging, so Marian had her out of there before the lord had chance to protest.

They were not alone; the two guards from earlier accompanied them but Francesca did not seem to notice; her mind was elsewhere and Marian wished she knew what she was thinking.

"Are you well? I hope we haven't done anything to upset you, I know your visit to Nottingham has hardly been pleasant so far."

"No, I am well, a little tired perhaps." Francesca did not look at her directly and that is how Marian knew she was lying. She was not well. Far from it.

"T'is no wonder with all that you have been through; it must have been terrible - those men in the forest, did they hurt you?" Marian knew that they had not but was curious as to how Francesca viewed her outlaw friends.

Francesca frowned. _Nobody said anything about the forest. How did she know they'd taken me to the forest?_ She then dismissed the thought, they were wanted men - it was probably well known that they were hiding in the forest.

"No, they didn't hurt me…" Francesca replied, reflexively rubbing her wrists where they'd been tied, remembering how they'd removed her bonds as she'd passed out, "although…"

"Although?"

"They hurt Sir Guy."

Francesca watched Marian's reaction closely. The reason for this was because she found Marian's behaviour strange to say the least. In all the time since their return from captivity, Marian had not been to see Guy once. Nor had she asked about his welfare. In fact, Guy hadn't been mentioned all evening. This was not normal. Francesca tried hard to think why this might be. That Marian hadn't asked about him was not so strange for she'd surely received word from someone but that she didn't visit him… He'd been hurt… did nobody tell her that? He spent the night in the dungeon…

_They are to marry… why didn't she…?_

Another thing that made Francesca suspicious was what the man she now knew as Robin Hood had said about Guy: "...don't even get me started on what he's doing to Marian…"

_What is he doing to her? _

_I don't understand. They're engaged yes? So… is there something wrong with that? or maybe he meant something else? _

_And come to think of it, how does he know her? and she him? After he grabbed me, she spoke to him… said his name… _

It was all so confusing and she had no idea what to make of any of it. She had not forgotten what he'd said about Guy but had decided to reserve judgement until she'd spoken properly to Guy on the subject. She was not much inclined to believe his side of the story but couldn't deny that this was a man who believed in what he had said - the pitch of his fury convinced her of that.

It was all somehow… off… Nottingham, Guy, Marian, Robin, the outlaws… nothing anybody said or did seemed to add up… and here she was in the thick of it, trying to puzzle it all together somehow… talking to the woman who Guy would spend his life with…

"I thank you for telling me, though I already knew he'd been wounded before they took him, the guards told me. I trust he is being looked after at the castle?"

_Why are you asking me? Why don't you go see for yourself?_

Marian must have divined what Francesca was thinking for she quickly added, "You must forgive me, I would go see him but I find it difficult dealing with the sheriff."

There was no arguing with that. Francesca understood her perfectly.

"I do not blame you Lady Marian; you are wise to stay away. Sadly, Sir Guy does not have that option; he has been in the dungeon ever since our return."

Marian would like to say that she was shocked but she wasn't. She'd seen it coming. Vaisey had been cursing up a storm after Guy had departed on his "idiot quest to rescue that infernal leper" (as he so put it). She intimated as much to Francesca and the answer she received was a tired sigh.

"Would you like me to take something to him? Since I am staying at the castle anyway, perhaps a note? I am sure something from you would cheer him." Francesca smiled but it did not reach her eyes and now Marian was the one to sigh. How did you answer such a question? Where did one even start? Would she like to? No she wouldn't. _If you're all out of convenient lies why not try the truth?_

"Why don't you buy him that scarf? I'm sure he will like it."

Ouch. That one hit dead centre just as Marian knew it would and Francesca didn't even try to conceal her mortification. She was about to stammer an apology when Winchester arrived and declared that it had been a splendid evening but it was time for them to go.

For the first time in her life, Francesca was glad to see him.


	44. Chapter 44

XLIV

Marian's words had made Francesca feel heartily ashamed of herself.

Who was she to analyse Marian and Guy's relationship? To question Marian's motives? It was none of her business. _He_ was none of her business.

His life was with someone else now and as much as she didn't want to face the reality of her situation, so was hers. It was Winchester whom she should be considering when buying scarves and as absurd as that thought seemed to her, (for spending time with him had not improved her opinion of him one iota), her future lay with him.

Thankfully, the following days were busy ones for Guy; the sheriff released him from the dungeon and he was occupied working on a project with a fellow called Lambert, which meant Francesca saw little of him. It gave her time to reflect on her behaviour towards him and cement her decision to keep her distance in future.

It wasn't easy though, especially as one morning he appeared in the great hall, smiling broadly, asking everybody to accompany him for he had something to show them. The look of excitement on his face made Francesca feel giddy before she reprimanded herself for being pathetic. She was trying to think of an excuse not to go when Marian arrived and that was exactly the kind of reality check she'd been needing. If she could see them together as a couple, that would surely stop her from behaving like some lovesick idiot wouldn't it? She had once thought that to see him happy with another would be the death of her but now she was determined to be the master of herself and get over this just as she had gotten over everything else in life that had not gone her way.

_You can do this. You will do this. You must._

Not an hour later, she found herself in a clearing near the mines trying her best not to burst with pride for him and his friend. The explosion was like nothing she had ever seen and their idea to use the black powder in the mine was a stroke of genius. His joy at having impressed Vaisey was something to behold - she knew how seldom praise was from the elder man and how important his approval was to Guy.

Of course, it couldn't last. No sooner had the smoke cleared that Lambert realised the folly of bestowing something so powerful upon the sheriff and it all turned ugly. The speed with which a business proposition became a melee made Francesca's head spin and once again, it was Guy's behaviour that shocked her the most.

How could he do this to his friend? How could he turn on him? Just as his coldness at Locksley had floored her, now he was trying to force Lambert to do a deal with Vaisey and all she could do was stand there with her mouth hanging open as the man she thought she knew became a stranger to her once more. As the guards dragged Lambert off and Vaisey spoke of "hurting him carefully", a terrible dread took hold of her.

_Oh Guy, what have you become?_

* * *

Upon returning to the castle, Francesca holed herself up in her quarters.

She felt as if the only sure thing in her life was falling apart and so wasn't up to being around people. Luckily, nobody cared where she was and so for a few hours she able to enjoy relative peace in her chamber…

Until somebody outside started yelling, that is.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne come out here this instant and speak to me!"

She frowned and went to the window. The sight that greeted her was a group of guards congregating around an irate older woman who was trying to get into the inner courtyards of the castle.

"I know you're there! And I don't care how long I have to wait; I'm not going anywhere till you talk to me!"

As she then heard the woman protest at being manhandled by the guards, she made a decision to intervene; she was damned if she was going to stand by and watch as another poor soul was dragged off to the dungeons this day.

She was just on the way to the ruckus as she caught sight of Guy and Marian in one of the courtyards. The image instantly burned itself onto her retina. They were talking intimately and Marian had her hand upon his shoulder. They were so absorbed in their conversation that they did not see her on the other side of the courtyard nor had they noticed Vaisey, who was watching them from the upper gallery. That would also explain why they hadn't heard the woman kicking up a fuss at the west gate.

The pang of jealousy she felt hit her as strong as any blow and she very nearly stumbled and fell to her knees before she inwardly yelled at herself to get it together and attend to the rather more important matter of stopping the guards from arresting the upset individual nearby.

Fortunately, she got there in time. "For shame, do you not have any respect for your elders? What has possessed you all to go pushing this lady around?"

"She wouldn't shut up!" One of the surly bunch replied.

"Did you think to ask her what might be the matter before you started manhandling her so?"

"She kept yellin' for Sir Guy…"

"Yes, well I heard that much myself thank you very much. Has anyone gone to fetch him?"

"Course not. He'll not want to talk to her when she's like this." The guard spoke as if this was self-evident.

"Well I don't think that being crowded in by all of you has helped much with calming her down do you?"

A chorus of grumbling and muttering from the guards ensued before the injured party finally managed to get a word in. "Why bless you child for coming to my aid, I don't want any trouble I assure you, I just want to speak to Sir Guy."

"May I ask what has upset you?"

"Aye you may, t'is my son you see, he and Sir Guy have been friends for years and what do I hear this day? That he's been arrested and taken to the dungeons!"

Francesca's stomach flipped in recognition. "He wouldn't happen to be called Lambert would he?"

The woman eyed her suspiciously, "Yes, that's my son. Do you know why they've taken him?"

"Yes. Let us go somewhere quieter and I can fill you in on what I know."

* * *

"I can do nothing for him."

Francesca hadn't said a word but in that strange way they had always managed to read each other, Guy had already divined her question. His voice was flat and emotionless. He avoided her gaze. She had numerous suggestions of what he could do for Lambert but she decided to try the one that he might possibly accede,

"His mother wants to see him."

"She is here?" He looked horrified and that told Francesca all she needed to know about how Lambert was currently faring.

"Yes."

"It is better she does not see him."

"He's looking that bad eh?"

Guy didn't say anything but then he didn't have to, his silence spoke volumes.

"Did you do the honours?" Francesca never thought in a million years that she would ever have to ask him such a question and her heart felt so heavy because of it. How had it come to this? How, in a matter of days, she had gone from loving him unconditionally to fearing what terrible deeds he might have done?

He sighed deeply and brought his hand up to his face as sadness washed over him. He was well versed in dealing with shame but never had he felt it so acutely before. Had he tortured Lambert? No, he hadn't but it didn't make any difference because if the sheriff had asked him to, he would have…

and now she would see it, she would see him; she would know who he was and what he did.

"If he'd given the sheriff the ledger, none of this would've happened." He cringed at his own words, knowing that giving his friend the blame was a weak attempt to assuage his own guilt but he had tried to reason with him, to get him to see what an asset the black powder could be as a weapon.

"Yes, you are right but where does it end Guy? Today it's a ledger but what about tomorrow? What will the sheriff demand then? How far are you prepared to go to satisfy someone who only knows how to take?"

Guy was about to protest but Francesca's eyes were flashing with anger in a way he'd never seen before and as she unconsciously reached out and gripped his forearm, the words died on his tongue.

"You almost died! Do you remember that? Because I do! I remember it as if it was yesterday!" She hissed; her voice low and tight with the beginnings of fury, "I remember you lay upon your deathbed as I prayed you would recover! Nursing you night after night, as you went to hell and back! And where was he? Where was the man you would sacrifice your friend to serve?"

It was of course a rhetorical question and Guy watched transfixed as the words came thick and fast now, rising in volume to the point where she was practically yelling at him.

"He never even fetched a healer! He barely bothered to check on you! Then he was off on some witch-hunt for Prince John! And I dread to think what sort of recovery you received on his watch after my father dragged me out of there!"

Once again, Guy's silence did the talking for him.

"So tell me Guy, was it worth it? Giving everything you have to somebody who obviously cares so little for you? Is this how you imagined your life would be second time around?"

"**I have no choice!" **His voice was a roar, so loud she thought the whole castle must hear it but she was not to be cowed, not now, not when she was so close to saying what needed to be said.

"You have! You can live without him I know you can! You have skills, experience, you could work for anyone..."

"I owe him everything!"

"What has he given you? A house? Some land? Guy it is not even yours…"

"**IT IS MINE! IT WAS ALWAYS MINE! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND AND NEVER WILL!"**

"Help me to understand, tell me…"

"**NO! We are done here!** I don't have to tell you anything!"

He stormed off and Francesca was left with only the echoes of his anger and the throes of her despair. It didn't take long before she crumpled into heaving sobs. Little did she know that two people were listening out of sight and agonizing over whether to go to her.

One was Guy who thought his heart would break.

The other was Marian who didn't know what to think.


	45. Chapter 45

XLV

"I don't have the ledger."

Lambert had never felt so weary.  
He should've known that when it came down to it, he was only worth as much as his formula. It was a surprise then to see the woman who'd accompanied their party to the demonstration at the mines step out of the shadows.

"I'm not here for that."

"You're not? Well, that makes a change, that's all anyone's been visiting me for lately."

"I'm here to give you this." She approached the prison bars and reached through with a note in her hands.

He regarded her warily. "I would come and get it but both my legs are broken."

She'd thought as much for he made a pitiful sight but was still shocked by his words. He grimaced at the sight of her pitying gaze and gestured for her to throw him the note. She did so and he smiled in gratitude as it landed in his lap. Recognition dawned upon his features as he recognised his mother's handwriting.

"She wanted to see you but Guy thought it better this way."

"Guy is right; I wouldn't want her to see me like this."

As he began to read, she noticed he was smiling and turned her back to give him some privacy but then as he gave a small cough to signal he was finished, she saw the beginnings of tears in his eyes.

"Thank you for doing this."

"You're welcome. Wish I could do more. I tried to talk to Guy…"

"Then you wasted your time - he'll not listen. I should've known it would end up like this; he never could see sense where the sheriff was concerned."

_Truer words were never spoken._

"I wanted to try."

A heavy silence followed whilst he thought on what she'd said and wondered why she'd gotten involved in all this. She was just a guest at the castle and he and his mother were nothing to her, so why had she done this for them? He was about to ask but then decided not to because did it make any difference really? All that mattered was that she had and he was so grateful to her that he felt himself welling up again.

"She tended to him you know."

Francesca frowned, not knowing of whom he spoke or why and thought that he was perhaps just rambling for the sake of it.

As it turned out, he wasn't.

"My mother. He was sick when he first came here."

"Who was?"

"Guy."

The hairs on the back of Francesca’s neck stood on end.

"He was?"

"Yes. That's how I met him. She looked after him."

She felt the air rush out of her. She closed her eyes and could see Guy as she knew him back then and it was so real, as if he lay in his sick bed before her, tangled in the bed sheets, deathly pale, helpless…

"I used to bring her things and as he got better we became friends…"

She was shaking now, memories of her time with him playing in her head.

"Who'd have thought it would come to this eh?"

A tear slipped down her cheek and she turned her back so he wouldn't see it, the last thing he needed was her blubbering.

_What happened to you Guy? Where did the man I love, the man who was this man's friend, go?_

"Would you do something for me?"

She wiped her face and turned to look at him. "Of course."

"Would you keep an eye on her?"

He didn't have to say who and Francesca felt herself choke, just about managing to keep her tears at bay to promise him she would.

* * *

Her screams were awful.

Truly the most awful thing Francesca had ever heard.

All was bathed in agonizing, gut wrenching grief and Francesca could only look on helplessly as the devastated mother launched herself at Sir Guy of Gisborne with a force nobody would've thought possible.

The guards stepped in but Francesca blocked their way. Not today boys. Not today.

_Let him see what he has done._

The screams faded. The fists pounding upon him slowed and then stopped. The protests of no! and I hate you! and how could you? and why did you? became muffled in his shoulder and morphed into sobs as he folded her into his arms and held her to him.

_ **Let him see.** _

* * *

"Ah there you are missy! We've been wondering when you'd show up!"

Francesca groaned. She'd hoped to be ignored for she was bone weary but Vaisey never was one to miss an opportunity to annoy where he could.

"How is the old dear? Has she cheered up a bit since this morning?"

She didn't respond though it took extraordinary effort not to.

This morning, Mary Lambert had watched as the body of her son was clumsily deposited before her like a piece of meat. It was only thanks to Guy's intervention that the idiot goons responsible for this disgusting act picked him up and carried him to the churchyard. It was also thanks to him that he received a dignified burial.

Francesca still couldn't look at him though.

_Too little too late. _

Still, that was something they were all guilty of one way or another wasn't it? Ever since that scene in town the previous day as Mary had learned of her son's fate and lashed out at Guy, Francesca had wondered if there was not more she could've done for Lambert.

Perhaps she could've gone to the saracen woman for help, after all, she'd had no problem getting herself and her comrades out of the castle had she? Or what about Robin Hood? She could've smuggled him and his friends into the castle and distracted the guards whilst they carried Lambert out.

She knew the ideas were half-baked and any attempt to rescue him would've put them all at risk of sharing his fate but still she wished she'd done something.

Robin Hood _had_ done something though: he'd smuggled himself in the castle. He'd been one of those visitors to Lambert asking about the ledger and fortunate as it was that he'd managed to stop the sheriff from getting his hands on it, sadly he hadn't been able to do the same for Lambert.

_We all failed him._

Now all that was left for them to do was to honour the man as best they could and respect his wishes. The ledger was gone, the black powder as well… all that remained was a crater on a hillside, ash upon the ground and those who were left to clean up the mess and muddle through somehow.

Francesca kept her promise to him and kept an eye on Mary. More than that, she stayed by her side through those darkest hours and offered what comfort she could; she figured it was the least she could do.

And now this man, who was responsible for all this pain and misery had the gall to ask her how Mary was!? If she had cheered up!?

Francesca felt a burning rage course through her, the likes of which she'd never known and it took all that she had and all that she was to resist the urge to lash out. God knows her father had provoked her over the years but this was a whole new level of hatred, for the damage this man had caused was immeasurable and yet to him it was all just a joke.

Vaisey had of course anticipated her anger, his comments had been for that purpose - to get a rise out of her but he soon found himself disappointed on that score for she swiftly made a beeline for the door.

Her father caught her by the arm on the way out, "The sheriff asked you a question, have you not manners enough to answer him?"

Francesca remained utterly unfazed, "No father, it seems that I do not."

She gave him the usual fake smile, pulled her arm free and then slammed the door behind her.

* * *

She was killing him.

He would never have thought that loving her could hurt so much.

_Please Francesca, please… I couldn't help him… I tried…_

All these years he had longed to see her again and even in his worst nightmares, he could not have imagined that things would have turned out so catastrophically bad between them.

Was it not terrible enough that in Winchester his worst fears for her had been realised?

She was his. She had sworn it. He knew it had been a promise she could not make but she'd made it anyway. Had written it. It was just a stupid piece of paper, faded and falling to pieces but he’d kept it so that he could never doubt her.

_I love you. _

_I am yours._

_I will never forget you._

Now she hated him.

Couldn't even look at him.

And although he'd always known that it would come to this - that in getting to know him she would come to detest him – he hadn't known how painful it would be.

He wouldn't admit it though. Wouldn't let it in. Refused to let it touch him. Scolded himself for dwelling on it. Told himself to man up.

He secretly reproached her for her goodness. This was the world they lived in and it wasn't fair and it wasn't good and it was just as Vaisey said, you have to "play or pay." One must swear loyalty to somebody or something and that is what he’d done. He had to live with that. He _did_ live with it. It wasn't pretty but what could he do? What could any of them do? Deal with it, that's what.

So he cursed himself endlessly because here he was again, letting himself be distracted by his feelings for a woman and Vaisey would laugh because all those lectures about keeping sharp, mind on the job, eyes on the prize etc. had been for nought because he fell into the same pattern every. single. time.

He threw himself into his work, driving himself harder than ever. He pretended that it was better this way and that Lambert had been the wakeup call he needed to come to his senses. He worked on mending the rift with Marian because she was the one he needed to concentrate on now not Francesca.

He wouldn't admit it but under the shadow it was darker than ever.


	46. Chapter 46

XLVI

For a while, Lord Winchester had been content to watch Vaisey and Gisborne's blundering; it had amused and entertained him but now his patience was wearing thin.

He had to admit that Vaisey's idea of making one of Hood's men a lord to coax him into divulging information to a pretty servant had been a good one and probably would've worked too were it not for the servant in question, who double crossed the sheriff and the 'lord', who readily gave up the good life to go back to his friends in the forest.

_Idiots._

Winchester couldn't do anything with people like that.

Fortunately, whilst strolling through Nottingham one evening, he found exactly the sort of person he could do something with and didn't hesitate to invite him to the castle for a chat.

"Aww, look yer alright, I was about to get goin' yeh…"

It wasn't quite the response Winchester had been hoping for but he'd never been one to give up so easily, "Really? A shame for I have a proposition to make that you will certainly be interested in…" The lord's smile was all charm but his eyes were deadly serious and just in case the young man hadn't quite got the message, a small troop of guards surrounded him blocking any chance of escape.

"I guess when you put it like that…" He mumbled, nervously eyeing up the 'welcoming committee'.

"Smart move my friend."

* * *

Francesca had spent the day helping Mary Lambert sort through her son's possessions.

It had been an emotionally draining task but she'd been glad to help, not just because she wanted to support her friend at this difficult time but also because it gave her an excuse to get away from the castle and in particular, the men in it.

No sooner had she returned however, that she wished she'd stayed with Mary.

The reason for this was that not long after arriving in her chamber, she heard an unmistakeable voice out in the corridor pleading not to be taken to the dungeon. She waited until the commotion had passed her doorway and opened her door a fraction to observe a group of guards dragging Allan-a-Dale in the direction of that dreaded place.

Her heart sunk.

She knew he was an outlaw and most likely guilty of whatever they'd accused him but she couldn't help but remember how he'd been with her in the forest – friendly and chatty, keeping an eye on her and trying to put her at ease – not at all what one would expect from a criminal. Maybe she was letting her feelings get in the way here, the law was the law after all, but having witnessed what had happened to Lambert, she felt sympathy for all who opposed the sheriff and suffered at his hands.

Funny how that happens, you spend your life trusting that all is as it should be then you get a glimpse behind the curtains of power and suddenly all you thought you knew is turned completely on its head.

These were her thoughts as she heard footsteps approaching. She quickly closed her door and just as moments earlier, opened it once they'd passed by.

It was Winchester.

Going to the dungeon.

To see Allan.

_What is he going to do to him?_

A vision of Lambert in that terrible place instantly appeared before her eyes - broken and battered, helpless and afraid - and an agony of indecision overcame her.

A few days ago, she would've felt bad for Allan but most likely done nothing, for who was she to interfere with the law? But now, having to live with the knowledge that she might have been able to do more for a man who ended up murdered, she could not turn a blind eye and let events take their course.

Allan was one of Robin Hood's men, so it was obvious that if anyone would help him, it would be him. Problem was, she didn't have the foggiest idea how to find him. Yes, she had been to the outlaws' camp but Robin had blindfolded her for the last part of the journey, (once they'd evaded the men following them) so she wouldn't be able to find it again… Moreover, it was not as if she could go asking around town if anybody knew of his whereabouts for that was the surest way to find herself joining Allan downstairs.

Visiting the prisoner to ask him how to contact his friends was also out of the question because a) Winchester was down there and b) her bribes to the jail staff obviously weren't good enough anymore because one of them had snitched after her visit to Lambert and her father had given her hell about it.

It was at times like these she missed Lydia. Her cousin had always been her compass, her confidant, her friend. _She would know what to do._ She considered asking Mary for advice but then thought better of it; the poor soul had enough on her plate and she did not wish to burden her further.

Who could one go to when one needed counsel about such matters? More to the point, who could you trust? She doubted Vaisey would tolerate anyone questioning his methods but what about Winchester? Could someone talk sense into him? Could he be open to the possibility of being more lenient? It seemed unlikely for Prince John had sent him here to 'deal with the situation' but he didn't say _how_ to deal with it did he? What if there could be another way?

She knew she could not convince him. She had scarcely attempted conversation with the man since their engagement so knew better than to try herself but what about someone else?

It was then that she remembered Sir Edward of Knighton.

_That could work; he was sheriff here and is used to dealing with such matters._

It seemed like a long shot but Francesca had a feeling that if anybody could talk sense into Winchester it would be his friend. Unfortunately, she didn't know where he stood on the subject of outlaws and what if he saw things the same way as Vaisey? What if he told Vaisey or Winchester about her meddling in the matter?

It was so hard to know what to do and making the wrong move could land her in a world of trouble but she couldn't stop thinking of Allan and how he must be suffering.

_What about Lady Marian?_

After their previous conversation, she was loath to go to her for Marian knew of her regard for Guy but this was different wasn't it? This wasn't about her feelings for Guy.

_What if she tells him though? He certainly wouldn't be happy to learn of you trying to help outlaws._

It seemed hopeless somehow. She knew too little of this place and its people to know who to turn to with what she knew and Allan didn't have time for her to figure it out.

There was nothing else for it; she would have to take a risk.

_To Knighton it is then._

* * *

She'd forgotten about the insufferable goons who followed her everywhere.

Luckily, she'd become so adept at boring them with her uninteresting activities that they'd become somewhat lax of late. She apologised to Sir Edward and Lady Marian for her visit at such a late hour and then began speaking of such mundane topics of conversation (borrowed from her time at court) that the guards were practically begging to wait outside. She couldn't repress a smirk as they left and curiously she noticed Marian do the same.

"Sir Edward, Lord Winchester informed me that before Lord Vaisey, you were Sheriff here, is that correct?"

The elder man was wary at this sudden change of conversation topic and Francesca thought it best to elaborate, "I only ask for as you can imagine my experience here in Nottingham has been quite alarming so far - you saw what happened at Locksley…"

Sir Edward softened at this. "Yes I can only imagine what you must think of this place after such an introduction."

"Forgive me for interrupting father but I must say that things were much better here with you as sheriff..." Marian paused briefly to give her father opportunity to speak but despite looking somewhat irritated he said nothing so she continued, "I am of course somewhat biased in my opinion but I think most people would agree with me."

Francesca's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Marian's candid comment and she felt emboldened to continue on the subject, "Really? Was there such a thing as an outlaw problem during your tenure Sir?"

"Well of course there has always been those who operate on the other side of the law but the poverty in Nottingham has exacerbated the problem the past few years."

_Wow._

Francesca's mind was blown. She'd been worried that Sir Edward might be as spoilt, selfish and uncaring as Winchester or her father but what he'd just said was the first sensible thing she'd heard from a nobleman since she'd arrived in the region. It gave her reason to hope.

"Forgive me for being so bold Sir but may I ask how you dealt with lawbreakers?"

The former sheriff was surprised at her question. Surprised and cagey. Francesca couldn't blame him; she'd started the conversation with the usual empty headed conversation expected of ladies and then dived headlong into a discussion about politics. Added to that was her connection to the man Prince John had sent to tackle the 'outlaw problem' - not exactly something to recommend her.

Thankfully, Lady Marian was not so suspicious; in fact, she seemed pleased that someone was asking such questions and it was an encouraging look from her that emboldened her father to speak:

"Well, I found that it always helps to gain insight into the circumstances of an offense, to understand what motivates a man to break the law before considering a form of punishment."

Francesca nearly fell off her seat. This was incredible. _Why on earth did they fire this man?_

"Do you think Robin Hood is justified in his actions?"

Francesca could see that she had gone too far now for her hosts clammed up instantly. It was a touchy subject but there was no point in dancing around it anymore, if she was going to help Allan then she would have to get to the point; "I ask because I saw guards taking one of his men to the dungeons and after what happened to Lambert I am worried what may become of him."

_So there it is. Cards on the table. Make of it what you will…_

It was with great relief then that after the initial concerned looks she caught a flicker of a smile upon Lady Marian's lips. It was only for a fraction of a second but that was all it took for her to know that she'd made the right choice in coming to Knighton.

Sir Edward was more measured in his reaction, "I am flattered that you trust me with this information but I am at a loss as to how I can help – the sheriff has his own way of doing things and has already assured me that my advice on such matters is unwelcome."

"Yes, I suspected as much. My hope is that perhaps you might be able to speak with Lord Winchester."

Father and daughter looked at her in astonishment.

Francesca could imagine what they must be thinking but continued because this had to be. "You must find me strange and meddlesome Sir, but I have spent the past days consoling a grieving mother and have no desire to witness the pain that comes with the sheriff's punishments anew. I realise that it is unusual for me to consult another as oppose to the man I am to marry but Lord Winchester is a man who values the opinions of those of equal station."

It went without saying that women did not belong to that station and certainly not women who were merely means to an end. Francesca knew exactly where she stood on that score - the revelation that Prince John was to attend their wedding had told her all she needed to know there.

Marian was fascinated with their guest. Fascinated and impressed. She was brave, far braver than Marian would ever have guessed for here she was, asking them for help – clever enough to know that with Vaisey and Winchester she was out of her depth but bold enough to seek assistance. The conversation she'd overheard between Francesca and Guy had already knocked her for six but this was something else altogether.

Her speech had not left Sir Edward untouched either - he approved of what she was trying to do but doubted that he would be able to get through to his friend.

"I will of course look into the matter and do whatever I can to advise Lord Winchester but you must understand that he has his own mind when it comes to business."

Francesca nodded resignedly. It was not much but it was something. She had tried… and who knows, perhaps Winchester might be receptive to suggestion from his friend.

She murmured heartfelt thanks to her hosts and took her leave.

If nothing else, she was at least a good deal smarter than when she arrived - the former sheriff and his daughter were good people who had listened to her case and responded with good sense and fairness.

_Guy has found a good woman; perhaps she can guide him to less murky waters… _

_If only there was a way of getting through to the sheriff and Winchester…_


	47. Chapter 47

XLVII

_All that trouble for nothing._

_Better you stay in your room next time and keep your mouth shut._

Indeed, it seemed like a sensible strategy for the rest of her life if events of late were anything to go by.

Allan-a-Dale was free.

Upon returning to Nottingham Castle, Francesca caught sight of him being unceremoniously turfed out at the west gate. Which begged the question, what on earth was that about?

_Why arrest a man and throw him in the dungeons only to let him go again? _

It was not as if she wasn't grateful to see him alive and liberated but it was confusing because he was an outlaw and from what she could gather, the powers that be were very keen to have outlaws under lock and key.

She had little time to think on this however for no sooner had she arrived at the stables the next onslaught of emotions overwhelmed her.

Guy was there.

With a strikingly handsome horse.

He greeted her formally and for Francesca it was as if the years fell away - here they were again: two strangers dancing around each other in the stables.

"Good evening Sir Guy."

He was relieved to hear her voice but dismayed that she still could not look at him. An awkward silence followed and Francesca would've given every penny she owned to have Joseph at her side to make her feel better.

"How do you like him?" Guy gestured to the horse and there was something about the nervous way he asked that made her heart melt.

She quickly squashed that sentiment and politely answered, "He's beautiful."

Guy was dejected to discern that she was keeping her distance but rallied a little as she added, "…but then you always did have excellent taste in horses."

She quelled the urge to ask him about her old favourite from court but swiftly warmed to his new companion as the curious animal greeted her by sniffing her hair. She couldn't help but smile at this and Guy had to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.

"He likes you." He declared and his voice was so soft that Francesca felt herself shiver, "…but then you always did have a way with horses."

She looked up at him then, unable to stop herself from _needing_ to see his face…

and there it was…

**that** smile…

the one that always reduced her to a pathetic puddle.

_Lord help me._

She was so lost, overwhelmed, and confused. How could he make her feel this way? How could he? After all that had happened how could he still do this to her? She felt as if she might cry.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, lost in a torment of repressed emotions before both startled at the stable groom's entrance.

Francesca blinked stupidly at the young lad as if she'd been expecting somebody else: somebody much older and kinder looking, not this bored youth who bumbled past them to take the reins of the animal.

"Will you be wanting an early start tomorrow Sir Guy? I heard it will be fine in the morning; if you catch your lady early, you'll have good weather for a test run with this fella I reckon." He patted the horse affectionately.

_Oh._

It was then that she realised.

The horse wasn't for Guy.

_Oh that hurts. _

_That hurts so much. _

Francesca was practically slumped over and tears were imminent. The comprehension that the magnificent creature was a gift for Marian hit her like a punch in the stomach and the effort to keep countenance, to not collapse into sobs, was enormous.

It seemed so silly and yet she could not help it…

It was not so much the gift, Francesca was not materialistic nor did she begrudge others who were so fortunate as to receive generous gifts, (though the preferential treatment of her sister by her father had never stopped stinging, not even after all these years), no, it was the weight of the sentiment behind the gift that hurt…

_A horse… _

_Wow. _

_And not just any horse either… _

_He must really love her._

She could feel her throat tightening painfully and the tears stinging in her eyes and knew she had to get out of there. So whilst Guy was busy answering the groom, she used the opportunity to leave. "Good evening" she muttered in a strangled voice and bolted for the door.

Guy turned back round to find her gone. He stood looking sadly at the spot she'd just been and wondered if there was anything he could do.

Too late.

As in all things with her, he was once again too late.

* * *

"Hey, I've been wondering when you'd get back - was getting worried."

The affection in Will's voice was killing Allan. Even more so with the dirt of the dungeon upon his skin and the promise he'd made to Winchester echoing in his mind.

"Yeh sorry mate, got held up by guards and a bloke I know helped me out of a jam…" Allan inwardly cringed at how easy the lie rolled off his tongue before continuing, "I already owe 'im a lifetime supply of ale but managed to get away with just a couple this time."

Will chuckled, "Ah, so that's why you're a bit wobbly is it? Thought you might've had a few."

Allan smiled and nodded. The actual reason he was unsteady on his feet was that he'd just been on the end of a savage beating that he was going to be feeling for days.

"Come on then, best get you to bed, we've got a busy day tomorrow." Will grabbed Allan's wrist to lead him into camp and Allan winced. Will noticed it but Allan quickly disguised his pained reaction with a groan.

"Can't I have a lie in for once?"

"No you can't and you won't be wanting to when I tell you what I've found."

Allan found this claim a dubious one for there wasn't much other than a comely wench that was going to tempt him out of bed tomorrow but he played along anyway because he was particularly fond of his friend when he was enthusiastic like this.

"Go on then, tell me."

"I have found…" He paused for effect and Allan rolled his eyes before punching him lightly on the shoulder to get him to spill the beans already, "one of the greatest wagons you'll ever see."

Allan groaned and chuckled at his friend's passion for all things wooden, "Nah mate, gonna pass on that one, think my bed is better."

"Oh come on, you haven't even seen it yet!"

"Don't need to mate; I know what wagons look like."

"Not this one you don't. I think it's from the east. Djaq is coming with…" Will smirked knowing that Allan was as fond of her as he was, "and I'll even give you a present if you do." The carpenter waggled his eyebrows and Allan found it increasingly difficult not to smile.

"What present?"

"Say you will and I'll show you."

Allan sighed and fighting with warm feelings of affection finally relented, "Oh alright…"

Will's triumphant smile was a picture. Allan found he couldn't feel bad even though he'd just been played like a fiddle.

"See? Wasn't so hard was it?" Will deposited a small object in Allan's hand and then casually sauntered off towards camp as if nothing had happened.

Allan tarried a moment to look at his gift. It was a wooden carving of a wagon. It was unfinished but a remarkable piece of work, admirably showcasing Will's talent.

He felt himself welling up and not for the first time wondered what he had done to deserve such a wonderful friend.

* * *

"Glad to be out of the castle you say!? Well I can't imagine it my dear, for it is hardly a palace here at my humble abode!"

Despite the fact that Mary Lambert was grinning, she was sceptical of Francesca's request to stay at her cottage.

"I care not for palaces Mary, only good company and you can be assured that you are far better company than the men at the castle."

Mary scoffed at this but Francesca meant every word. She wouldn't complain if she never saw any of them again. Except Guy of course. Her traitorous heart wouldn't let go of that particular man no matter how much pain it caused her.

Still, there were some small mercies to be thankful for – Winchester and her father had decided to go on a business trip to some dignitary in another county so she was to be spared their nonsense for a few days and Vaisey and his Master of Arms were entertaining a special guest, which kept them occupied and out of her way.

Mostly.

She had run into them that morning and found the experience so unpleasant, (the mere sound of Vaisey's voice being enough to set her on edge these days), that she'd packed a bag and made her way over to Mary's straight after.

She was pleased with a different castle duo however: the guards who had been her chaperone of late had proved most cooperative as she'd handed over a generous bribe with the recommendation to take a couple of days off.

"Will your beau not be missing you?" Mary had been wondering about this for it was unusual for an engaged woman to spend so much time away from her intended.

Francesca forgot for a moment that Mary was referring to Winchester, (for she never considered him her anything despite the fact that they were to marry), and thought of Guy. It didn't matter though for whichever man she referred to, the answer was the same; "No Mary, he is engaged elsewhere."

If there had been one perk of her engagement to Winchester it was that he was more interested in her father than herself and mostly left her alone and as for Guy, well, it was the truth wasn't it? He _was_ engaged elsewhere (literally) and the only kindness she could do herself was to put distance between them.

The change of scenery did her good. The change of company even more so. Best of all though, was that here she could make herself useful; at the castle, with everything attended to, she felt restless and idle but here she could help Mary with whatever needed doing and when they'd gotten finished with the chores, she could still be of help just by keeping Mary company.

More than that, she felt she could breathe. It had been one overwhelming event after another ever since she'd arrived and now she finally had space to let her emotions settle.

Being with Mary also put her problems into perspective. A man had died. What was her broken heart in comparison to that?

Later that day, Mary got to reminiscing, "He was a good boy, always tinkering with things…"

Francesca grinned; she could just imagine Lambert like that.

"He said that someday his creations would make him rich and then he'd build me a big house…" the elder woman continued with eyes aglow, "but I told him I didn't need a big house… that I'm happy here and all I needed was him…" she swallowed hard but smiled through the sadness, "I was ever so proud of him you know…"

Francesca hugged her close sensing that tears were coming but then Mary seemed to brighten a little. "Sir Guy was proud of him too; always telling him how brilliant he was and suggesting how he might be able to put his ideas to use but then he always was the ambitious one."

Francesca's smile faded. Guy and his ambition. Is that what Lambert died for? _How far will you go Guy? Who else will have to suffer?_

"Sometimes I wonder-" 

"What?"

"No I cannot."

"Go on."

"No, I should not say such things." Mary looked as if she was frightened of what she'd been intending to say and Francesca was intrigued. She fixed the elder woman with a concerned look and squeezed her hand to signal that it was ok to continue.

"Well it's just that… sometimes I wonder if I hadn't nursed Guy back to health if my son would still be alive today."

Francesca froze.

What a terrible thought.

What horrified her even more is that she could reproach herself for the same thing.

Mary looked ashamed and Francesca could see tears in her eyes. She pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly as she began to cry.

"But he was so ill… and kept getting worse… I thought he would die… I had to help him..." She sobbed as the words poured out of her, each sentence punctuated by a crying jag, "and I didn't know that this would happen…. How could I know that it would come to this? That my son would end up…"

Francesca held her through it all and stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort; "it's alright… you couldn't have known… it wasn't your fault…" and was amazed to discover that tears were streaming down her face as well and that her words were meant for herself as much as Mary.

"I know he wouldn't have wanted this… he didn't mean to hurt him." Mary whispered as the pitch of her misery lessened and Francesca nodded in agreement, no, Guy hadn't wanted it but it had happened all the same and there was nothing they could do about it.

"I just wish something could be done about the sheriff." Mary sighed sadly as the weight of her grief settled upon her and the cause of it seemed immoveable.

"Yes Mary, we all wish that. Perhaps someday God will hear our prayer."


	48. Chapter 48

XLVIII

"This is the King's annual duty to finance his crusade against the heathen, if you can't pay; you go to prison – sheriff's decree: no exceptions, no tolerance."

The villagers of Locksley were in a stupor.

They'd scarcely had time to process the news that yet another tax was being forced upon them before they were attacked by Gisborne's men and imprisoned in carts bound for Nottingham.

Some cursed their infernal luck, most cursed the cruel lord of their village, others stumbled about as if in trance - desperately trying to comprehend how things could've turned out like this, whilst a few sighed in sad acceptance of their fate – dismayed but not surprised at this turn of events.

Whilst the captured villagers were lost to their thoughts, nearby a drama unfolded as Gisborne arrested a cooper.

There was an audible gasp from all present as saracen-style bows were found – everybody knew what that meant.

"Collaborate with outlaws and you will be punished like an outlaw. Take him away!"

It only got worse.

The cooper's boy interfered and Gisborne had him by the hair, "The runt! We must make an example of him..." The boy squirmed in his grasp but Gisborne gave him no quarter, "Take the boy too."

"Leave him alone!"

"He's innocent!"

The protests were in vain. There would be no leniency.

As Alice cried out her son's name, the boy's father could bear it no longer.

Little John had kept out of sight but had seen it all.

He sprang forward to aid his child but Robin held him back. They had no chance against those numbers; any attempt to free him could only end in failure. John had no choice but to accept Robin's reasoning. There would be no letting the boy out of sight though, that much was clear.

As he made his way in the direction of the cart with a protesting Robin in tow, Sir Guy of Gisborne noticed someone retreating in the distance and his blood froze.

_Oh God no. Of all the people..._

_*_

_"_What are you doing here?_"_

His voice was tight with menace but Francesca would not be cowed by him.

"Watching the performance." She was hiding her anger beneath sarcasm for the moment but it was there alright, burning bright beneath the surface; Guy knew that another confrontation between them was imminent.

"Where are your guards?"

"I gave them time off." She spoke as if it was the most normal thing in the world, a mere trifle.

Guy's temper skyrocketed. "You did what!?" He stalked closer to her, towering over her. "You had no right! Do you care so little for your safety?"

"My safety! From what I've seen, the only people I need worry about are you and your men..." She gestured around her at the carnage in the wake of the arrests, "I mean let's face it, if you won't even spare children, what's one more woman to add to the numbers?"

"Don't be ludicrous." He rolled his eyes at her overdramatic speech but the point she was trying to make had hit home. He moved the focus back to her on purpose, "You shouldn't be here."

"Oh I shouldn't should I? Where should I be? Sitting in my bedchamber at the castle prancing and preening like a good little girl, is that where I should be? Waiting for Winchester to 'deal with the situation here before he hands me over to Prince John!?"

Guy froze. His eyes widened in horror.

Francesca smirked, "Oh come on Guy, what did you think this was about? Did you think Winchester chose me for my 'charms'!? I am a means to an end! A way to get from A to B!" Her voice had been mocking but now there was a cruel curl to her lips as she delivered the point of her speech, "and do you want to know where B is? It is here Guy, right here." She paused to give him time to digest the information and could tell the very moment he understood, "Yes, it is Nottingham he wants."

It was all there to see. Astonishment. Dismay. Dread. Francesca wouldn't let up though,

"Tell me, do you think he'll keep you on when he gets it?"

There it was.

Fear.

Fear in those cold blue eyes.

The fear that came with realising that everything you had thought was yours was about to be taken from you.

"So you see Guy, all this was for nothing."

*

It hadn't been five minutes.

Francesca had stormed off, determined not to waste any more time on him but of course nothing was ever that easy and he turned up at Mary's like a bad penny before she'd even had chance to calm down.

"Vaisey won't stand for it."

She sighed and grasped his sleeve to lead him away from Mary's, not wishing to sully the domestic peace of the cottage with the arguing that was bound to happen. She was surprised to find that he let her.

"You don't get it do you? Do you think that Vaisey can do anything about it?"

He was about to interrupt but she stopped him, one hand gripping upon his forearm, eyes beseeching him to listen, "Whatever your master may be capable of, he still has to serve – just as you do. Have you not yet realised that the man that you serve, both of you, can take away everything you have on a whim? Have you not seen this? Do you not see this every time you visit your lady at Knighton? Is Sir Edward not evidence enough of what happens when one falls out of favour with Prince John?"

_He is not stupid. He doesn't need you to spell it out for him. Perhaps..._

Francesca shivered as her mind supplied her with a dark thought. Guy had to be aware that his current position was a precarious one and that was the reason why he was so keen for a union between himself and Marian... _it's a safety net... should all be lost, he shall not fall so hard…_

Another puzzle piece slotted into place.

_Oh Guy..._

It shouldn't make sense but it did and only because that very morning she'd overheard villagers gossiping about the lord of the Locksley and his lady.

"When the king returns."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that – she said she'll marry him when the king returns."

"Bloody hell really!?"

"Yep. She's that keen on him! Might as well have said when hell freezes over!"

"Good lord! Bet that didn't go down well!"

"Aye, he's a moody blighter at the best of times, wouldn't be surprised if he goes takin' it out on all of us..."

It was, in retrospect, a strangely prophetic comment but by that point Francesca hadn't been listening anymore.

_When the king returns... _

_Why would she say that?_

_Does she not want...?_

_And yet he still..._

She thought of the horse. Marian was holding him at bay with a stipulation, (something no matter how she tried, she could not get her head around), and he was buying her extravagant gifts. He was either madly in love... or...

_deeply in need._

She could not know which and had not spent enough time with the couple to make an educated guess. Still, even if she had, it would still be difficult to say for she was hardly impartial about this was she? and let's face it, short of seeing inside their heads, one could never be truly sure of their motives.

Her thoughts circled, her heart ached but her gut was the one that was really troubling her...

"Do you think marriage will solve your problems Guy? Having a family? Even if Prince John leaves you be, do you think Vaisey ever will? Do you not realise that having people to love and protect gives him something to use against you? And even if through some miracle he was out of the picture, what of the enemies you have made here? What of the men, women, and children you have wronged?" She was close to him now, up in his face, determined to get through to that spark of reason somewhere beneath those layers of armour.

"Violence begets violence. Every vile deed spawns an act of revenge. It never ends..." She paused to send up to the heavens a silent prayer before delivering her final words:

"You have to stop."

Then she was gone.

He caught up with her just as she was about to enter the cottage and wordlessly shoved a crumpled note into her hand. Her surprise was quickly replaced with understanding.

He gave her a look she doubted she would ever forget before he mounted his horse and left her to her despair.

It seemed he'd made his decision.

_Business as usual. Just as Vaisey likes it._

* * *

The 'festival of pain' was a farce.

Robin Hood and his merry men were triumphant once more.

The prisoners were free, the tax money liberated and all in Locksley village were rejoicing.

All but one.

In a small cottage on the outskirts of the village, a girl who felt old beyond her years sat looking out of the window watching the happy scene unfolding before her feeling more lost than ever.

Francesca was glad that the sheriff had been thwarted. She was pleased that the people had been saved. She savoured the feeling of relief whilst it lasted...

but wondered what this meant for a certain man at the castle.

She brought her gaze to the crumpled note in her hand. She had no need to examine it – she knew what it was... what his returning it to her meant...

He was giving her permission to stop loving him.

_If only it was that simple._

For the first time in her life, she wished she'd never started.

Not really.

She told herself that but in truth she still could not regret their time together. He'd given her every reason to but she couldn't.

_Oh Fran… quite a taste for heartbreak you've developed… _

_They all warned you - Betty, Lydia… even Guy himself…_

But was it really so surprising that she'd fallen for the first man who'd shown her kindness? It was clear to her now that she had rushed in despite hardly knowing him at all and she cursed herself for it - she knew now that in doing so she had been an impulsive fool...

and yet...

She recalled what it was to be in love with him so utterly and completely – how it had filled her life and given her comfort...

given her something to hope for and hang on to...

but now...

it was shattered

and with it the reason for so much of what she did.

Who she was.

Could she give up on something that had been such a fundamental part of her for so long?


	49. Chapter 49

XLIX

"I hope you've brought a nice frock with you my dear…"

Francesca jumped out of her skin.

How in God's name had he gotten into her room without her noticing? The door was old and creaky yet she hadn't heard a thing.

"You've been looking so dreary of late…"

Francesca silently cursed him a thousand times and bemoaned her luck for having returned to his domain. It was bad enough that her father and Winchester would be returning today; did she really have to put up with Vaisey slinking about, scaring the bejesus out of her as well?

As her heartbeat returned to normal, she turned to face him with her brow pinched in an irritated frown. Vaisey adored that expression on her; it was one of his favourites.

"You don't seem pleased to see me - a shame, for I come to you first with the news…"

Her frown deepened and Vaisey drank it in. He might not be able to mess with her as much as he'd like, (as Prince John's future mistress she was pretty much untouchable) but he'd still torment her where he could.

"Soooo… do you have anything decent?"

She was shaking her head now and looking at him as if he'd completely lost the plot. "What do you mean?"

"To wear of course! For the wedding!"

_Wedding?_

"Gisborne and Marian! Don't tell me you hadn't noticed their engagement or were you too busy trying to get back into his bed?"

Francesca's jaw dropped open.

1\. She'd never been in his bed… well, not in the way he was insinuating anyway…

2\. What happened to 'when the king returns'?

3\. How dare he insinuate that she'd been trying to seduce him!

4\. What happened to…

"He's coming this Saturday." Vaisey smirked, relishing what he was doing to her with this disclosure, "King Richard himself." He bowed in an over-the-top manner, grinning all the while, "We are most honoured…"

Francesca felt her defences crumble as the news sunk in. Her legs turned to jelly and she had to prop herself up against one of the bedposts. She turned away from him, all too aware of how his eyes greedily ate up her distress.

"Yes my dear, by this time next week your lover will be a married man and you'll trading wedding tips with Marian no doubt… or…. bedroom tips." His grin was pure wickedness, how he loved to pull the prim and proper ladies down a peg or two, "After all, can't have you showing yourself up when Prince John finally gets round to having his way with you eh?"

It was too much. Francesca's legs gave up on her. She somehow managed to perch herself on the bed but it was as if her body had completely deflated. She felt herself beginning to choke and willed herself to breathe. When she finally managed it and her lungs ceased screaming for air, she buried her head in her hands and petitioned the Lord above to give her a break for if things carried on like this she would surely lose her mind.

_Please God, I know that he is lost to me but do you have to make me watch him marry someone else? _

Vaisey was a gleeful spectator of her anguish; he found there was nothing quite so satisfying as delivering a well-aimed kick when someone was down.

"Say…. you could borrow a dress from Marian! She has some fetching outfits! I'm sure she'd have no problem lending you something…" Vaisey paused to run a quick greatest hits of Marian's wardrobe through his head, chuckling as he remembered an interesting camouflage number, "but do remember dear, it is not proper to outdo the bride on her big day, so choose wisely…"

* * *

It must be fate, Guy was sure of it.

Finally, something was going his way.

It was a strange feeling to be sure but was it not his turn? Had he not been patient? All his life he had worked to get to this point, done all that needed to be done (and then some), bowed and scraped to get to where he should have always been…

He rode out to the Gisborne lands, to the spot where his house once stood and closed his eyes to imagine how it was going to look here in a few years' time. He had done this many times in the past four years but this time he shivered as he did so, knowing he was closer than ever.

The future was set.

The king was coming.

Marian would be his.

Winchester would be dealt with.

(The wheels were already in motion - Vaisey had assured him.)

Francesca wouldn't have to marry him and therefore would not be given to Prince John.

She could go home.

And maybe…

in time, there would be a good man who noticed her…

_A better man. _

In truth, he had never felt himself worthy. He had known it then and knew it now. That's why he'd stayed away all those years, that and because of her father - even when he'd gained Locksley, his pride had smarted at the thought of going cap in hand to that puffed up peacock.

He absentmindedly reached for the scrap of paper he kept in the inside pocket of his tunic and then with a sigh remembered he no longer had it. He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, riding out the feelings of regret that were coursing through him.

He knew how silly it was to hang on it but for years it had been the only proof that she'd existed… that he had not imagined her in some fever dream… that she had loved him…

that for a short time he had been good enough for her.

_It is better this way. She was never meant for me._

* * *

"But you do not love him!"

"He has qualities!"

Marian was all too aware that she was clutching at straws but under the circumstances it was the best she could do.

Faced with the event she had been dreading ever since she'd acquiesced, she held fast to the only arguments she'd been able to come up with in Guy's favour: that he appeared genuine in his regard for her and the material security marriage to him would ensure.

As to the protection he offered her from the sheriff, well, that was a promise made on shaky foundations – what they'd done to her hair was proof that not even Guy could spare her if the sheriff was set on punishing her but…

_maybe as his wife, things will be different…_

She was not naïve and never had been but with no way out of this predicament, all she was left with was vague hopes that all would not be so dire as she suspected it was going to be.

Try explaining that to Robin though. How to make him understand? How could a man who had always been free to come and go as he pleased understand what it was to be a woman?

This brought her thoughts to Francesca Cavendish, who served as reminder that things could always be worse. It was perhaps cruel to find solace in comparing one's own plight to another's but Marian was not fussy where she found her comforts at present.

Guy might not be the man of Marian's dreams but Winchester… a shudder of revulsion passed through her at the very thought of him and however dreadful the prospect of marriage to Guy might seem, how dreadful must it be to be promised to Winchester?

Guy had also proved of late that he could be attentive, affectionate and generous – not things Marian had ever wanted from him - but at least it showed that he meant to be a good husband to her. What kind of husband could Francesca look forward to?

Marian thought back to one particular exchange with Guy where he'd become more demonstrative in his advances – taking her into his arms and entreating her to 'be with him' – she had of course rebuffed him but the key here was that he'd respected her wishes – would Winchester have done the same?

The answer was a resounding no. Marian had never been so unfortunate as to find herself in that position with him but she knew him well enough to know that he let nothing stand in the way of what he wanted.

_Poor Francesca._

In a moment of fancy, Marian wondered if she could not rescue them both from their future husbands and take them off to some place where women could live in peace unbothered by men. She giggled and gave a sigh, enjoying the fantasy before her mind supplied her with another thought to bring her cheer…

_One final fling… something to make me more comfortable in my marriage…_

* * *

It was bound to happen.

One can applaud the bravery and spirit of one so bold as the lady of Knighton but let's face it, if your idea of a 'fling' is to engage in physical combat against a man twice your size then it's not surprising that it goes pear-shaped is it?

And boy had it...

For a short time though, the Nightwatchman, Robin Hood and his men were oblivious as to just how pear-shaped things had gone… and none more so than Allan and Will, who'd separated from the group and were in possession of the bounty.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Will groaned. He hated it when Allan asked this question.

"Noooo..."

"Well, if you're not thinking it, how d'y'know what it is?"

"I don't think like you do."

"I'm not being funny but maybe you should. What, you think Robin's gonna need us when he's a lord again? It's all right for them, Much with his lodge... What are we gonna have?"

Will sighed. He noticed his friend had been 'off' ever since he'd heard the news King Richard was returning, now he knew why.

Still, he couldn't condone making off with the loot. "This should go to the poor."

"That's us now! Look, we were outlaws, right? We had a job. We got nothin' now. We are the poor. You know what this is?"

"What?"

"Severance pay."

_Oh Allan…_

Will had known it; had sensed it the moment Allan had opened his mouth but still, it galled him at times the way his friend's mind worked. Robin would never do that to them, not after all they'd been through, he might get his house back… and his title… and lands and… wealth… but… surely he wouldn't forget his friends…..

would he?

The seed of fear took root and grew quickly, taking over any certainty he'd felt concerning their leader and where his loyalties lay. Would he want to bother with the likes of them once he was the king's man again?

Fact is, they didn't know.

A look of understanding passed between the two men, a shared fear that all was about to change and they were to be left behind.

And err… that really was a lot of money wasn't it?

_Maybe we could…_

Will looked in his confusion to Allan but if he was looking for someone to talk him out of it then he was mistaken. Allan was several steps ahead, no longer stuck on maybe but already considering how to put the 'severance pay' to use – he'd always been quick to notice an opportunity and that's what this was wasn't it? A chance to get ahead, to start again – Robin wasn't going to want them hanging around waiting for him to throw them a bone was he? No, he'd want them to stand on their own now and what better way to do it than with this money?

If it wasn't for that niggling feeling at the pit of their stomachs…

Allan was better at ignoring it, talking a mile a minute trying to convince them both that this was the right thing to do even though they both knew deep down that it wasn't.

It was the mention of Will's family that clinched it for him and the longing to see his father and brother (not to mention thoughts of how the money would help them) that compelled him to take those first steps along the great north road in the direction of Scarborough.

But….

"I can't do it."

Will stopped at the side of the road.

"We're doing it!" Allan insisted, staring intently at his friend who was avoiding eye contact.

"I'm not."

"But we're here now!" Allan gestured to the road, their way out.

"I'm going back." Will turned on his heels and Allan practically whimpered at the sight. He waited a moment to see if he would change his mind but it wasn't happening so he hastened to follow him.

"Wait! Don't go! Look, we'll never get a chance like this again…"

"I know." Will didn't slow down.

"An' you'll be regrettin' it as soon as Robin goes swannin' off with the king an' all that – he'll not give us the time'a'day once his majesty gets here…"

"I don't care."

"Well I do! We deserve better than that! After all we've been through…"

"I'm sorry Allan…" Will stopped walking now to look his friend directly in the eye and it was the sad expression on Will's face that had Allan transfixed, "I sometimes forget how much this has cost you."

Allan swallowed tightly, he knew Will was referring to his brother.

"I understand why you want to go..."

Allan bowed his head and sighed.

"But what about Little John and Djaq? Don't they deserve better?"

He was no longer referring to Robin now but instead to what it was they were doing here – didn't Little John and Djaq deserve better than their friends slinking off without even saying goodbye is what he was saying.

There was a charged silence as Will gave his friend time to think and just as he began to worry that Allan was going to leave with the loot anyway, he heard an exasperated groan…

"Alright! Alright! I hear ya! But don't come cryin' to me when we're skint an' livin' on the bones of our arses!" Allan started moving again, this time in the direction of Sherwood and Will grinned so hard it hurt. He was about to rush forwards and hug the man when Allan stopped abruptly. He didn't turn to face him, just stood as still as a statue.

Will's stomach tightened. He didn't like this one bit. "What is it?"

Allan said nothing for a long time and that frightened Will more than any talking from him ever could.

"Please Allan… you can tell me…"

"I can't…" His voice was strangled and it sent a shiver through Will.

He took a step towards him and whispered, "Please… whatever it is, we'll work something out ok? I promise."

Allan began to tear up, his fingers made their way to the wooden carving in his pocket and he rubbed gently as the last of the air in his lungs stuttered out of him.

"It's about Winchester…"


	50. Chapter 50

L

"Now, does she want an egg or bacon? She can't have both, I don't care who she is."

Much, God bless his soul, was in a quandary about what to serve a severely wounded Marian for breakfast.

Djaq however, was in a quandary about something altogether more serious:

"Pray to your God... and to mine. She is going to die."

She had done her best to treat the wound but Gisborne's dagger had hit it's mark with full force at close range – the odds of surviving such an injury to the abdomen were slim in the best of circumstances and here they were, in a cave, without proper instruments.

Djaq told Marian as much – to lie about something so serious was not a kindness so she did not sugarcoat the truth nor hide what she knew - she told it straight and in doing so, prepared herself and the others for the worst.

She was not giving up, no, never that, but she was not about to delude herself or anyone else as to Marian's chances of getting through this.

Faced with such frankness, the wounded lady felt that it was time for herself and Robin to have a serious conversation;

"So? Never lie to a dying man."

"You are not going to die and I have never lied to you."

"Oh, come on. We have never once spoken the truth to each other."

"This is not the time to argue."

"Do not tell me when it is time to argue!"

Brave, wonderful Marian - spirited to the last.

"I'm serious. We have never once spoken the truth to each other. For instance, I say you are a fool when I mean you are a hero. I criticise your actions then mimic them myself as The Nightwatchman. I chastise Robin Hood..."

"Shh…"

"I will not be shushed; these might be my last words!"

"No they will not be. They cannot be. Because we should be together! Marian, I should never have left you; I should never have gone to war. It was a mistake! And you were right, I wanted glory but believe me the battlefield is the last place you'll find it."

"You would always have regretted it if you hadn't gone…"

"But not as much as I regret going. Not as much as I regret losing you. Marian, I should not have gone."

"Robin..."

"I..."

"I love you, you love me, we all love each other. Drink the wine."

What a legend. One might perhaps think that Djaq was being a killjoy here but she earned that right by being a surgical ace whose primary concern was saving Marian's life. It was whilst doing that very thing however, that she came to realise that she was in over her head and urgently required assistance. Robin knew the very man and was now counting on Pitts in more ways than one.

He arrived in a whirlwind looking like he'd just fell out of bed. Indeed, for a man who had much to hide, he had shifty written all over his face. It was unsurprising then that Robin was quick to smell a rat. Unfortunately, this realisation arrived at the same time that the guards did (courtesy of the helpful trail of bandages Pitts had left for them to find). It all went downhill from there.

Marian died. Vaisey and Gisborne arrived. Their 'friend and helper' Pitts decided to make a run for it and in doing so ended up with an arrow in his back thus scuppering any hopes of bringing Gisborne to trial for attempted regicide…

All was lost.

And so it would've been were it not for the men (and woman) of Sherwood forest.

They fought like heroes. Like they had nothing left to lose. Hopelessly outnumbered, they charged the opposing force with every expectation to die.

There would be no surrender or capture only victory or defeat.

As an arrow came from left field narrowly missing Gisborne, Robin began to hope. Allan and Will had arrived.

_We're all together now. Do your worst Vaisey._

The sheriff blustered. Gisborne and his men were caught on the wrong foot – had not reckoned with such aggressive resistance. Guards were dropping left, right and centre.

Robin Hood _did_ kill.

The core tenet, the guiding principle, the noble aim to do the right thing was gone. Done with. Finished. Over.

Marian was dead. All bets were off.

* * *

He should've known.

Fate had never meant it well with him, how could he have ever thought otherwise?

The King was not coming and never had been. It was all a charade. Yet another of Vaisey's schemes.

Guy could've strangled him.

He'd just had to endure one of the worst rides back to the castle he'd ever had – swallowing the bitter pill of defeat, thinking about the men they'd lost whilst trying to apprehend Hood - how he was going to have to arrange the recovery of their bodies for burial, notify their families etc. and what had been Vaisey's highest concern? His tooth.

Then Winchester had showed up as if he owned the place, complete with 'lapdogs' in tow: Cavendish traipsing behind him as per usual and now a new skivvy - some mercenary or other brought in to 'whip the men into shape'.

Any other day Guy would've protested, but having just had their arses handed to them by a small group of forest dwellers, he felt himself inclined to agree with the man.

And now this - the revelation that his plans were based upon a lie and that his future father-in-law was going to walk into a trap. Not a great start to marriage, even he had to admit.

He endured his misery in silence, as was his custom, but it did not go wholly unnoticed.

Francesca had put off greeting her father and Winchester as long as possible but it could not be put off altogether. She'd heard them arrive and ignored the bustle but as Vaisey began yelling at the servants to bring an early lunch, ("I have a special announcement to make…"), she knew she could no longer tarry.

Fortunately, the men were too busy caught up in their own chatter to take much notice of her and so she was able to fade into the background after a few polite enquiries and an introduction to their new friend, a man whose name she forgot no sooner had she heard it.

It was whilst tuning out the uninteresting blather with which Winchester filled every informal conversation that she noticed all was not well with a certain knight. This was the first time she'd seen him since Vaisey informed her of Guy's approaching nuptials and it was a shock to discover that he looked anything but happy.

Whilst Vaisey was busy cursing over lunch because apparently he'd lost a tooth (!), she spoke to her former love on the pretext of congratulating him. The curt nod she received in reply worried her exceedingly.

It had cost her a lot to say anything at all, after all, this was her trying to put a brave face on whilst congratulating the man she loved on his upcoming wedding to someone else but his response was killing her.

_Why is he like this? What is the matter? _

She stared at him, questions upon questions on the tip of her tongue and yet knew he wouldn't answer any of them. So they sat in an awkward silence whilst she tried to come up with something to say that wouldn't make him more miserable.

Eventually she gestured with a flick of the head to their newest guest and quipped, "Do you think he has any idea what he's getting himself into coming here?"

The relief she felt to see Guy's lips curl into a smirk was immense.

The relief he felt that she was speaking to him at all after what he'd put her through was immeasurable.

"If he has any sense, he'll be out of here before nightfall." He deadpanned.

She huffed a small laugh and he drank it in. Could she ever know how much comfort she brought him with her laughter?

Their smiles faded - weighed down with the burdens of the world and the duty that attended practically every moment of their lives. God knows the years of practice had made them good at putting on a neutral expression whilst pretending to be interested in what their superiors said…

and so it was now, as Vaisey made his announcement.

* * *

Winchester took the news well, Vaisey had to admit.

One would've thought that given his reputation as close friend and advisor to Prince John that he'd be worried at the prospect of meeting King Richard but if he was, he didn't let it show.

This left Vaisey disappointed; he'd hoped to rattle the man with his announcement but instead all he got were suspicious looks and observations along the lines of "Hmmm, I wonder that I haven't heard anything about this before - I have my connections you know…"

God, how he hated him.

Detested him with every fibre of his being. He'd not forgotten that his 'good friend' had tried to poison him, nor had Willy's death sated his thirst for revenge but he'd had to make a choice back then and naturally, he'd chosen power. He didn't regret it but it meant that he'd had to put his best laid plans to one side to devote himself to his position as Sheriff of Nottingham.

At first, all had gone well; he'd had no trouble turfing out Edward and Marian or stamping his mark upon his new domain and he'd been confident that soon he could begin with the planning and orchestration of that which he most desired: the murder of his enemy.

Alas, four years later, he still hadn't managed it.

First came the problem of Gisborne's health – had his right hand man been fit, he'd have been all too willing to get rid of Winchester, sadly that hadn't been the case and so Vaisey had been forced to bide his time on that one. (Theoretically, he could've entrusted someone else with the deed but if Willy's blundering and subsequent death had taught him anything, then it was better to stick with who you know).

By the time Gisborne was fit enough to do the job, another murder took precedence – namely that of King Richard. Prince John was most insistent and so once more Vaisey's plans were put on the backburner.

When that assassination failed, it was all Vaisey could do to hang on to his job let alone deal with Winchester and then, to top it all off, Robin of Locksley returned from the holy land to cause him a world of trouble.

And all the while Winchester thrived – cementing his position in Prince John's inner circle, stoking the fire of the prince's indignation with every new failure of Vaisey's to get the situation in Nottingham under control.

By the time his lordship showed up at Locksley in what was an obvious takeover, Vaisey was positively itching to kill the man…

but…

how to do it?

It goes without saying that Vaisey was well acquainted with the ways to end a life – he'd never had any trouble with that, no, the difficulty here lay in doing it in such a way as to not get caught. It was one thing to kill a criminal or an outlaw; it was another to murder a favourite of Prince John.

Good thing then, that Vaisey had something in the works to deal once and for all with the loose end that had troubled him for so long...


	51. Chapter 51

LI

"Told you we'd be seeing her again!"

Rosie Baker could always tell when a customer was keen. She'd been in the trade all her life and her gut feeling was never wrong when it came to a sale. Her daughter Sue chuckled for she'd thought the very same thing about the young lady who'd visited their market stall the previous week.

She held off on the sales patter this time and let the girl peruse but as she reached out to touch the scarf she'd paid particular attention to last time, Sue couldn't help but encourage her, "It's lovely that one isn't it? A beautiful shade of blue."

The smile that tugged at the corner of the girl's lips said it all - Sue knew she was going to buy it. She was surprised however, as the customer then enquired if she had another in a similar shade.

"For you and your beloved?"

The sad look on the lady's face made her instantly regret the question.

"Err… no, it's a wedding gift."

It took considerable effort for Sue not to raise an eyebrow. There was only one wedding that came in question here and it astounded her that anybody would want to buy Sir Guy of Gisborne a gift, wedding or no. She wisely held her tongue though, reminding herself that the lives of her customers were none of her business. Fortunately, her mother was smart enough to do the same.

Unfortunately, Tilly Radcliffe, who owned the neighbouring stall, had overheard their conversation and couldn't resist putting her oar in.

"You buying that for Gisborne!? Christ, you'd do better keepin' yer pennies to yerself! I doubt the man has cracked a smile in his life and I don't reckon he'll start now for all the nice scarves yer might buy 'im!"

Francesca frowned and bit her lip. Rosie and Sue Baker cringed; if that hadn't killed the sale then nothing would. Tilly chuckled and toddled off back to her stall.

With a determined huff, Francesca held up the scarf she'd had her eye on and another one in a lighter blue, "I'll take them" she declared, holding her head up high. She gave the surprised mother and daughter a smile as she paid and then passed by Tilly without so much as a glance.

"I can embroider 'em yer know… I'm good at embroiderin' – you ask anyone 'ere… an' if I keep the pattern small I could prob'ly get it done by t'morrow…"

Francesca turned to face the woman who'd obviously also heard the exchange and spared no time in making the offer. She was old, indeed, positively ancient; her tiny body bent double as if gravity would claim her any minute, her eyes squinting and hands shaking in a manner that suggested her embroidering days were long behind her - the young woman didn't have the heart to refuse her though, "That's a lovely idea, what do you think would work best?"

"Well, I reckon they'd want their family crests on 'em… I'd need patterns though, I knows the families but I don't know the crests off the top of me 'ead."

"Well then, I'd say that's settled! I'll get the patterns and then you can get started!"

"You 'aven't even asked me how much I want for the job yet…"

Francesca wanted to hug her. _God bless her heart…_

"Well err… go easy on me now…" she grinned indulgently at her new friend who grinned right back and didn't miss a beat when it came to her reply;

"Tell you what, come sup with me awhile, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement."

* * *

Dot Whittleworth was sharp as a blade.

Age and infirmity had done much to slow her down, but when it came to quickness of the mind, time had scarcely left a mark upon her. For example, she'd only gone to market that day to get some food in but as soon as she'd seen the young lady at Rosie Baker's stall, she'd been quick to seize the opportunity of work with both hands. After all, you can't let chances like that go to waste these days what with the sheriff always on the take.

It hadn't only been money on her mind though, Dot was also fond of company and had never been shy when it came to inviting folks to her humble abode – she found people fascinating and enjoyed listening to what they had to say, soaking up their words like a sponge. Of course, she didn't invite just anybody but she'd always had good instincts and in this case had only had to look at her current companion to know that she would be pleasant company.

Lady Francesca did not disappoint; she was genuinely pleased to be invited, attentive to her conversation partner, generous when it came to a price for the work and mindful of Dot's frailty at all times. There was a sadness about her though, that made the old woman wonder…

"You going to the weddin' with your husband, my dear?"

"No, I am not married... well, not yet anyway... and err… I don't know if my fiancé shall be in attendance. Knowing him, he'll have business to attend to in Nottingham."

"He'll be wantin' to see the king then?"

Francesca was surprised that her friend was so well informed, but then again, not; news like that spread like wildfire so it was no wonder really. She nodded the affirmative in answer to the question and then her thoughts wandered as she considered that perhaps she might be able to spare herself the heartache of Guy's wedding if she stayed in Nottingham. She would've happily continued with this line of thought, but as she was not alone, she had neither time nor space to do so.

"He'll have to get in line - there'll be loads wantin' to talk to the king, aye, t'will be a wonder if anybody shows at the weddin' which is a shame, for Lady Marian will make a beautiful bride..."

Francesca smiled and nodded, the sad look in her eyes did not go unnoticed however, nor the sigh that accompanied it.

"Are you good friends with Lady Marian?"

"No, we only met recently."

"Forgive me, I just thought what wi' you buyin' a gift for 'em."

Francesca sighed again. It was natural for people to assume that it was Marian she was thinking of when buying the gift.

"No, it's Sir Guy that I…" Francesca trailed off, not knowing what to say – how could she describe what it was between them? "Well, err… I met Guy a long time ago and…" She found herself floundering once more and it only got worse as Dot turned her head sharply to look at her. She squirmed under her gaze and struggled to think of what to say before abandoning the attempt altogether.

Dot was intrigued. Well, this was interesting. It had been donkey's years since the old woman had been sweet on someone herself, but she had no trouble recognising it in the girl sat before her.

"He was kind to you was he?"

Francesca's head shot up, her eyes wide and alarmed.

"It's alright you know. I figures he's not a monster every wakin' minute..." Dot smiled wryly, holding eye contact even though the girl looked away, "He weren't one when he was a boy, I knows that much."

Francesca turned her head so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash.

"You've known him that long?"

"Yes. Knew his mother. His father not so much, he was away fightin' for king and country. They had a house and lands you know, near Locksley…"

Francesca's mouth dropped open.

Guy never told her that.

_Had?_

"Big place it was…"

_Was?_

"Kept a lot o' folks busy runnin' it. Had friends who worked there... was a good job if you could get it."

Francesca was reeling. She had never considered the possibility that Guy could have ties to this place, but then he'd told her so little of his past, not that they'd had enough time together had he wanted to.

"What happened to it?"

Dot's face darkened. "Burnt to the ground. An accident… his parents were still inside… Locksley's father an' all."

_Oh my God… _

_No._

The air rushed out of Francesca's lungs and tears sprang to her eyes. She sat shaking her head, trying to grasp the incomprehensible. Dot's sombre expression had been warning that something terrible was about to come, but for this crushing revelation she had not been prepared. As the shock subsided, countless thoughts rushed in and with them overwhelming sadness. A tear spilled down her cheek as one particular memory of Guy burned bright behind her closed eyelids: that of him pulling her close during his sickness, calling out for his mother.

She couldn't say for how long she sat like this, lost in a silent misery that waxed and waned with every new thought her mind offered - it felt like an eternity but for all she knew it might have been a matter of moments.

"How did it happen?" She eventually inquired, anticipating the answer with dread. She wanted to know, but at the same time was not sure she could bear hearing it.

"Well, there was an argument between Sir Malcolm of Locksley and Sir Roger: Guy's father…"

"Sir Malcolm was Robin's father?"

"Aye, Gisborne and Locksley were friends and neighbours…"

_They were?!_

"Though it was rumoured Sir Malcolm was more friendly with Lady Ghislaine in Sir Roger's absence than he should've been…"

"Guy's mother?"

"Aye. I don't know if there's any truth to that. If there was something goin' on then it weren't official an' they kept it to 'emselves but you know how folks like to gossip…"

Francesca nodded in response but in truth, her brain was still several steps behind, caught up in the shock of discovering that Guy and Robin had a history. That their families were connected was not something she had ever suspected, let alone that there may have been an affair between Guy's mother and Robin's father.

"Anyway, no one knows exactly how the fire got started, but I do know that Sir Roger weren't s'posed to be there: he'd been banished, had come home from war a leper…"

Francesca felt irrationally angry for a moment, wondering how people could be so cruel to a sick man, but then recalled once hearing about the high risk of contagion and lack of success in curing leprosy. Add to that a large dose of ignorance and superstition…

"Well, you can imagine how shocked people were to find him back again, an' it were Robin who called the alarm…"

Dot noticed Francesca's anger straight away and gently placed a shaky hand upon her forearm, "He was only a lad, my dear; a frightened boy, he didn't know how worked up folks would get."

Francesca nodded and let reason calm her. Still, she could understand why Guy might hate him for it.

"So the story goes that Sir Malcolm went to Gisborne to talk some sense into Sir Roger, they got into an argument, a fire broke out, Guy and his sister managed to get out in time…"

_Sister!?_

"but their parents and Locksley didn't make it."

Dot pressed her lips together tightly. Francesca bowed her head. They sat in a heavy silence until it occurred to Francesca that there was something she'd overseen;

"The loss of home and family does not mean loss of land and title - Guy could've rebuilt… eventually…"

"Ah, yes, well he probably could have, but the villagers turned against him. He and his sister were banished."

_WHAT!? NO!_

_Good God in heaven… no…_

Francesca was appalled.

This was worse than she could have ever imagined.

"How could they do that?" Her voice was thick with tears, on the verge of breaking.

"I don't know, my dear. Honestly, I don't. I only heard 'bout what happened from neighbours and no two tales were ever the same…"

Dot moved to sit beside her young friend, sorry to upset her. She had not expected such depth of feeling from the girl and it was clear to her now that this was more than a simple admiration for Guy on Francesca's part - there was a story behind this - a history. So as Francesca looked at her with those sad eyes, imploring her to continue, Dot didn't have the heart to refuse her.

"Some say the boy started the fire; angry at his parents and Locksley because of the affair…"

Francesca was furious. How could they think it? Of course, such a notion would not seem far-fetched to the villagers nowadays for they only know Guy as the sheriff's man, but how could people have believed him capable of such a thing as a boy?

"Others say that villagers started the fire – yelling 'bout how Sir Roger had brought disease to their village, puttin' their wives and children in danger…"

Dot smiled sadly, it was a terrible thought, but a likely scenario - fear for one's loved ones can make the meekest of souls do unthinkable deeds.

"There were also talk of a bailiff who'd been lookin' to get his hands on the property an' it were 'im who saw to it that the children were cheated out of their birthright…"

Francesca shivered. It was inconceivable to her how somebody could be so disgustingly opportunistic, but then again, she was engaged to Winchester and acquainted with Vaisey, both of whom would have no trouble doing something like that.

"Then there are those who believe that the family is cursed and wanted 'em gone, lest the curse carry over to their own family…"

Francesca shook her head, unable to hear much more. She felt thoroughly wrung out. She'd come with this kind lady to discuss embroidery, who'd have thought she would end up finding out all of this?

"By the time I heard 'bout it, the children were gone, to where I know not. The lands passed on to young Locksley…"

"Wait… Stop."

Francesca was utterly incredulous. She'd heard Dot perfectly, but this detail was so shocking that she had to make sure that she'd understood correctly.

"Are you telling me that Guy's lands were given to Robin?"

Dot nodded. Francesca groaned.

Now it all made sense.

When she finally managed to recover her composure, a feat that required enormous effort, she pulled Dot into a hug and thanked her from the bottom of her heart. As painful as it had been to hear what had happened to Guy, all was so much clearer now because of it. What she had learned did not absolve him, indeed there were no excuses for his abhorrent behaviour, but this knowledge of his past was key to so much of what he did and what he was.

Dot smiled and hugged her back. She had not wanted to burden the girl with the sad tale, but could see now that it had been the right decision to tell her - Francesca had wanted to know, had needed to understand.

She would let her go now, let the words sink in. She wouldn't let her leave however, without a promise to visit later in the day - she needed patterns; after all, those scarves weren't going to embroider themselves now were they?


	52. Chapter 52

LII

"Pattern for embroiderin'?"

The girl sweeping the yard at Locksley was looking at Francesca as if she had two heads.

"Err… yes; it's for a wedding gift you see… I was hoping to have it done in time, but my friend can't even get started without patterns."

Francesca gave her a moment to get with the program but she looked more lost than ever. Then again, Francesca could understand that in the bustle of getting the house ready for its new mistress, the request might seem a bit of a strange one.

The longer the girl stared frowning, the sillier Francesca felt. She was beginning to wish she hadn't bothered. She certainly hadn't reckoned with the adventures she'd been having in the name of a wedding gift.

Thankfully, she didn't have to squirm under the girl's gaze for long, for another servant came to her rescue.

"Good day milady, can I help you?"

It was an older man, probably the same age as her father, Francesca guessed, but despite having an air of authority about him, he looked kind and this helped her with her unease. That was until he got a better look at her and then for some reason his demeanour changed.

She introduced herself regardless and explained the purpose of her visit, as he studied her with an intensity she could hardly stand. She was about to ask him what his problem was but never got the chance…

"Good Day Lady Francesca, is there something we can do for you?"

Normally she adored that voice.

Normally.

But not now and not in that tone.

She shrank in upon herself and slowly turned to face the master of the house, trying for the life of her not to look guilty.

To no avail. Guy could read her like a book. That she had not planned with his arrival was clear and that made him very suspicious indeed.

"Well?" He stalked towards her, an expectant look upon his stern face and Francesca floundered – she'd never been a good liar and had no explanation for her visit that would not give away her gift so she remained silent, tugging nervously at the scarves hidden behind her back.

Guy shot a questioning look at the servant, who shrugged and thankfully did not give the game away before dismissing himself whilst muttering about how there was "much to be done so he better be getting on with it."

Guy sized her up, noticing she had something behind her back and with a voice somewhere in the region of subarctic asked her what she was hiding.

She backed away from him, squirming and shaking her head, "T'is nothing."

"Show it to me."

"Please Guy."

He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to control his emotions. On the one hand, he was angrier than he thought he ever could be with her: this strange behaviour of hers brought out the worst of his suspicious, insecure tendencies and made him all too ready to assume that this was part of some sort of betrayal. On the other, her voice was like a bucket of cold water over the fire of his anger – he didn't want to cause her distress, to make her plead with him like this and yet he _needed_ to know what this was about.

"**Show me.**"

Francesca hung her head. It was time to give up. She made a mental note to never go to so much trouble again before reluctantly complying with Guy's request.

"I just… thought you might like them." She whispered.

Guy frowned. It took him a few seconds to realise what it was she was showing him.

"These are… these are for me?" He stammered, surprised that he could even speak what with his jaw having hit the floor.

"And Lady Marian… for your wedding." Francesca nodded, but didn't make eye contact – she couldn't. "I was going to have your family crests embroidered on them… came for the pattern…" She replied shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other.

She lamely held them out to him, smiling apologetically, still unable to look at him. He held a hand out to touch them but did not take them from her.

She waited a while for some sort of response, her eyes fixed upon his fingers tentatively running over the fabric and as the silence stretched on, her curiosity got the better of her and she looked up at him.

He was dumbstruck. Visibly moved. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze. There was a look on his face, an agony of overwhelmed emotions that Francesca recognised from the first time he'd seen her again after all these years and she felt herself welling up at the sight.

She coughed to clear the lump in her throat and then found herself rambling, no longer able to stand the silence. "I err… made a friend at market and it was her idea… about the family crests I mean… she says she can get them done in time, but I'm not too sure about that… she's getting on a bit…" She smiled nervously and ventured a look at Guy who was staring at her intently now. That alone was enough for her to clam up and look to the ground again.

A loaded silence followed and Francesca thought she might explode with the tension. She tried to think of something to say that wasn't more of the inane rambling that seemed to pour out of her during these strained encounters between herself and the knight but nothing came. As it turned out, it didn't matter because Guy found his voice first.

"You would…" He jolted at how boyish he sounded and coughed to bring his tone back down to a normal register, "You would do that?"

Francesca's head shot up. She _had_ to look at him - his voice compelled her – but then when she did, she couldn't handle it.

_Oh Guy... please don't look at me like that… _

She played it down. Could do no other. The awe upon his face at such a small gesture of kindness made her heart ache, bringing back all that she had heard about him from Dot.

"T'is nothing really… I err… I just wanted to… I mean… I just thought that…" She brought a hand up to her forehead as she struggled with her words and was astonished to feel his hand upon her wrist. The world seemed to stop as the touch of his fingers burned into her skin. A small whimper of surprise escaped her, it was barely audible, but Guy registered it and he stroked his thumb over the tender skin just beneath her palm – a gesture of affection to calm her but also an entreaty to look at him.

She did.

And the warmth of his gaze very nearly bowled her over.

_Good God in heaven Guy…_ _ ** Please** _ _ don't look at me like that…_

She blushed on cue; just as she always did and he had to drop his hand from her, otherwise he would pull her close and kiss every inch of that blushing skin.

He would've silently congratulated himself for that display of self-control were it not for the amorous images his mind supplied him with, alongside torturous memories of how sweet she tasted…

_Has anybody a bucket of cold water handy?_

"Sir Guy, please forgive the intrusion…"

_Ah Thornton, one can always rely on you…_

"Emily has the pattern for Lady Francesca, if she would like to come with me to the house."

Francesca nodded and took her leave of Guy to follow the older man. Just before she crossed the threshold, she looked back at the knight and found soft blue eyes staring at her. She blushed and looked away, cursing herself for behaving like a love-struck sap.

*

"Forgive the mess Lady Francesca; we had a robbery here last night."

As they waited for Emily, who had swanned off somewhere, Thornton noticed their guest looking at the broken bedchamber door, which was being hauled through the hallway by a couple of guards.

"A robbery! Sir Guy didn't say anything… I hope nobody was hurt?" Francesca stared at the splintered wood, hoping that it had only been the door that had been exposed to violence. It was a noble hope, but of course a vain one.

"The master caught the assailant in the act and confronted him: Sir Guy came out of the skirmish with bruises, the Nightwatchman however, was not so fortunate…"

"The Nightwatchman?"

"The second most wanted man in Nottingham after Master Robin. Not much I can say about him I'm afraid other than he wears a mask and a cape… and as of last night a nasty wound to the abdomen."

Francesca winced, detesting any sort of violence and then remembered seeing a masked man in the forest camp. She was about to mention it, but then a kindly looking woman showed up with the pattern she'd been after.

"Good news milady, I've got patterns for both families here – t'will save you the trip to Knighton that, which is just as well for I hear that Lady Marian is not feeling up to visitors."

"Really, Emily? Who told you that?" Thornton inquired.

"Sir Guy did a minute ago just before he headed off to church to speak with the priest."

"Unwell?" Thornton was more than a little concerned, knowing as he did about Marian's reluctance to marry his current master due to her continued attachment to his former master (amongst other things).

"Aye, he was visiting her earlier and she's bedbound with nerves apparently. He's not much better though, bless him, riding round like a mad thing trying to get everything perfect for the big day."

Talk of weddings was not something Francesca relished of late (if she ever had) and as the purpose of her visit was now concluded, she gave Emily her thanks and said her goodbyes.

To her surprise, Thornton stopped her. "Lady Francesca, I've been meaning to speak to you for some time on a particular matter, would you be so kind as to come with me to the study?"

The request made her wary, but that intense stare from earlier had made a reappearance so she followed him without question.

*

"Now that you're here, I'm not sure how to begin…" He paced nervously and Francesca frowned; the look over the shoulder as they entered the room had already put her on edge and now this strange introduction…

"Please do not worry, you have done nothing wrong, nothing at all, it's just that this is a matter that has had me wondering if I should speak with you or not…"

"Please, have no fear; I shall listen to whatever you wish to tell me."

"No, it is not that that troubles me, it is…" He paused to decide how best to explain himself and she could only look on in confusion, silently willing him to continue.

"Have you ever made a promise to a dying man?"

The question came out of nowhere and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Yes." She whispered, finding traces of that man everywhere in the room she was currently standing in.

"When Sir Guy came here he was ill – so ill he nearly died. Mary Lambert did everything she could to tend to him, we all did, but it was touch and go for a while there and one night when he asked for me, I feared he would not see the dawn…"

Francesca closed her eyes, shivers running through her, memories of seeing Guy on the point of death resurfacing thick and fast.

"It seemed that he believed the same, for he begged me to do something…" Thornton pulled a note from his pocket and Francesca felt the breath stop in her lungs.

_ **Oh my God…** _

"You must forgive me, I wanted to give it to you, I wanted to keep my promise, but then he recovered and there was never any mention of it again - indeed, he was so delirious as he gave it to me, I doubt he even remembers it…" He paused to look at her, apologetic eyes entreating her to understand his position, "I didn't know what to do."

Francesca was overwhelmed. She could see from his distress that he was telling her the truth, but she was still so shocked that all she could manage was a small nod to signal she was still following him.

"I kept the note hoping that in time he would remember, that there would be some signal from him, an order, a direction, some mention of you…" He sighed and shook his head, "but he guards his past so faithfully... and the weeks turned into months and the months turned into years…"

He took a step forward, holding the note out to her, hands shaking, shoulders slumped, eyes regretful and downcast. "I'm so sorry."

She stared at it a long time before taking it, and then began tentatively running her fingers over it as if to make sure it was real. The seal was unbroken, the paper faded, and the only words visible were those of her name.

Thornton observed her as she turned the note over in her fingers but made no move to open it - waiting to be alone for that no doubt.

"He gave no address. Your name is all I had to go on. I considered seeking you out, but knew nothing of you and would never have risked giving something that meant so much to him to another with your name…" Thornton confessed smiling wanly. Francesca, sufficiently over her shock, returned the smile and put her hand upon his to reassure him.

"I only knew who you were as Winchester brought you into this house. The master's face upon seeing you told me all I needed to know."

Francesca nodded, remembering that terrible evening at Locksley and the event that should have brought Guy joy – the announcement of his engagement…

_Oh._

She had for a moment wondered why Thornton had not come sooner to her with the letter, after all, she had been in Nottingham for quite some time now but this remembrance swiftly answered her question. Guy was to marry. Everything had changed. What good would it do to give her the letter now? Best to let sleeping dogs lie surely…

_And yet he did it anyway…_

Thornton was gobsmacked to see a smile spread over Francesca's face. He had expected her to be angry, to reproach him for his inaction, to berate him for his indecision, to blame him for the loss of what might have been…

but she did not.

On the contrary, she thanked him. Many times. Insistently.

And smiled.

He did not understand it, but by God was he was he grateful for it…

He did not know if he had done the right thing, but that she bore him no ill will made his heart lighter than it had been in years.


	53. Chapter 53

LIII

"Scarborough!"

Allan winced. Robin was fuming.

"What you lookin' at me for?"

"Because it was your idea of course!"

"How d'yer know that? It's his family that lives there!" Allan gestured to Will, silently cursing his friend for letting the cat out of the bag.

"Because I know you Allan!"

Well, there was no disputing that.

"I've got enough on my plate with Marian and Gisborne at the moment without having to worry about you two running off to the seaside!"

And wasn't that the truth? Robin had scarcely had time to rejoice that Marian was alive before the bitter reality of their situation came crashing down upon him: if he didn't find a way to stop the wedding, he would lose her again. He needed all the help he could get right now so it was a surprise to find his men not on the same wavelength.

"What were you thinking?" The look of hurt accompanying this question had even Allan bowing his head in shame.

"Aye, that's what I'd like to know an' all." Little John chipped in, making the runaways feel even worse.

"We were scared, alright?" Will confessed and Allan cringed. He admired his friend's honesty; he really did, but he would never admit to half of what Will did.

"Scared of what?" Djaq couldn't wait to hear what possible explanation they could have for doing a bunk whilst she'd been trying to save Marian's life.

"Being out of a job! I don't know 'bout you, but when his majesty gets 'ere and Robin buggers off to wherever with 'im, I don't much fancy being left on my arse without a penny to my name!"

A roar of indignant comments is what Allan earned himself with this statement, all to the tune of how dare he think such a thing. He was almost beginning to feel bad were it not for…

"Well, you have done it before."

_Ten points Will._

"What do you mean? The master has never…"

"What are you talkin' about? 'Course he has, you even went with him!" Allan rounded on Much.

"That was different…" Robin protested.

"Different how? Did you go to the holy land or not?" Allan inquired.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I…"

"Look Robin, what we did was wrong, we know that and that's why we didn't go through with it, but can you blame us for thinking that if the king asked you to go with him that you would?"

_Twenty points Will._

"He's the king of England!"

"Yes Robin he is, but we need you too!"

_Ooooooooooone hunnnnndred points Will!_

"**Do you?**"

Robin turned to Allan with a look that could pierce bone.

"Do you need me _Allan_?"

Allan's jaw dropped open; he looked around to find that the others were just as shocked as he was.

"Or do you need Winchester?"

For a split second, one could've heard a pin drop and then a cacophony of voices echoed loudly through the camp as shock and confusion took over.

Two voices were notably absent: Robin's, because he was the one accusing and Allan's, because he knew exactly what Robin was referring to and was now very scared indeed.

"Allan… what is he talking about?" Djaq was not liking the way this was going and was curious to know how Allan was going to talk his way out of this one.

"I was gonna tell ya…" He offered lamely.

"You spoke to that man!?" Much was a picture of indignant anger.

"He's telling the truth, he was going to tell you…" Will offered.

"You knew about this?" Robin rounded on Will now.

"Yes and it seems I'm not the only one…"

Robin ignored the comment and strode determinedly over to where Allan stood squirming. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Wait a minute! Stop! Are you saying that he's been spying on us!?" Much was on the verge of exploding by this point and Little John took a step towards him knowing that he was probably going to have to hold him back shortly.

"I 'aven't!" Allan declared unhappily.

"You were seen! At the castle! A little bird just happened to tell Marian about it, who of course told me. What am I supposed to think?"

"Robin please…"

"No Will! Let him answer!"

"He caught me playin' cups at market. One minute all's alright, the next they've got me in the dungeon yeh?"

"You didn't have to tell them anything…"

"That's easy for you to say Much, you weren't on the rough end of it were ya?"

"Yes, but…"

"Yes but nothin' my friend, they beat seven sacks of sh*t outta me - I'd've said my name was Trudy if they'd wanted me to after that."

Nods and grunts of agreement came from the outlaws, which then turned into sympathetic glances in Allan's direction – it was like Roy all over again and nobody needed reminding of the outcome of that one.

Robin's gaze softened but his tone remained firm, "What did you tell him?"

"Nothin'. He wants me to tip 'im off next time we've got somethin' big planned."

"And you said you would!?" Little John did not like this.

"Yeh, but I wasn't gonna – I figured I'd just fob 'im off you know? Tell 'im a tale..."

"I believe that you would do that." Djaq declared smirking. It wasn't a great leap of the imagination - Allan was adept at talking his way out of trouble, so why should it be any different here?

Robin nodded, satisfied that this was how it had gone down. He wasn't happy that Allan had kept this from him, but the fact that he'd confided in Will, one of the most honest people Robin had ever met, (brief outing in the direction of Scarborough aside), showed that it was not his intention to betray them.

Much stared at the faces around him, his gaze lingering on Robin in particular and sensing the forgiving mood of his friends asked incredulously "So you're just going to believe him then?"

"They are trying to get at us Much, trying to break us apart, but we can't let them." Robin answered with a steel in his gaze that he directed at each of his gang in turn. "This isn't the first time and it won't be the last." He paused to remember his fallen friend Roy before pressing the point home, "All we have is each other and so I need to be able to trust each and every one of you, just as I need you to trust that no matter what happens tomorrow, I will not abandon you or our cause."

He brought his eyes to rest upon Allan and Will who both met his gaze, nodding in understanding before looking to each other. It was that which allowed Robin to hope. If anybody could keep Allan on the straight and narrow, it was Will.

"And err… if anybody has any ideas how to stop this wedding I'm all ears." Robin could not resist a quip to lighten the mood after all that seriousness.

What he didn't expect though was for someone to take the request seriously, least of all the man he'd just been accusing,

"Ere Robin, now that you mention it…"

* * *

"Where have you been?"

Francesca sighed. She knew that tone all too well.

"Organising a wedding gift father, we don't want to be rude do we?"

"Really? Well, if that is the case, then why did you feel the need to rid yourself of your escorts?" Lord Cavendish had been most unimpressed to learn from a diligent snitch amongst the men that his daughter had sent her guards on paid leave.

"I didn't see the point of them accompanying me to ask about embroidery patterns."

"They are there for your safety. Have you forgotten that you got yourself kidnapped? Do you wish for it again?"

_If this is the alternative…_

"No, of course not father."

"You will stay here now. You will not set another foot outside the castle gates unless it is in the company of Lord Winchester or myself. The guards who were so keen to slack off on your purse will be punished…"

"No please father! They weren't to blame, it was my fault!"

"They will be punished. You are lucky I don't make you watch."

Francesca turned away to hide the look of hatred she so longed to level at him, knowing that an angry reaction from her would make things worse for the men.

"… and you will have new guards to watch your every move. Do you understand?"

She nodded dutifully, in the hopes that this would pacify him to the point where he would spare her the usual trial of having to apologise to him whilst secretly wishing some unpleasant fate to befall him.

"You will dine in your quarters for I have no wish to see you…"

_Oh, you are too cruel._

"Nor does Lord Winchester desire your company this evening."

_Double drat…_

"Tomorrow I want you on your best behaviour."

_Am I ever any other for you oh kindest of fathers?_

"I will not have you show yourself or Lord Winchester up at the wedding…"

_Wait… He's going to it!? _ _ **We** _ _ are going to it!? Oh God…_

Francesca tuned out the rest of the lecture. She had not thought that Winchester would forego a chance to see the King Richard. She knew how close he was to Prince John, which was reason enough to give the king a wide berth, but then she'd always had him down as one to toady up to anybody if it could be worth his while. He also had a high enough opinion of himself to believe that he could talk himself out of any trouble he might find himself in with the monarch regarding his position in Prince John's inner circle.

Strange then, that he was choosing to miss out on perhaps the biggest event to happen in Nottingham in years to go to a wedding.

_Perhaps he promised Sir Edward, they are old friends… _

_Then again no. He would never rank friendship over power. _

No, this was out of character for him and she had not reckoned with it. The shock weighed heavy. Fortunately, her father was done lecturing her; otherwise, she would've ended up breaking down in front of him. As it was, she managed to get to her bedchamber just in time.

She reproached herself as the tears began to fall; it was not as if she hadn't known this would happen, indeed, she'd been painfully aware that she may well end up having to attend the dreaded event - it was just that her heart had clung to this final hope she would be spared…

The chances had been good: Winchester was the sort to see himself in the company of kings and not the sort to attend weddings of those he considered 'beneath him'. She would've put money on it. The wedding gift was to serve as an apology for her family's non-attendance.

No such luck.

She slumped upon her bed as the reality of what she would have to face the next day hit her with full force. The sobs wracked through her and she rode them out, unconsciously pulling her arms around herself in lieu of having somebody to hold her. In much the same way as her body sought comfort, so her mind; steering her thoughts to anything that could drag her out of the pit of despair she currently found herself in.

She thought of her little niece far away and told herself that it would not be long until she saw her again... Perhaps when this was over they could visit, she was sure her father would want to see Natalia and it would give her something to look forward to…

God knows she needed it.

For a while, she let herself pretend that the babe was in her arms and all else fell away: all pain and sadness, all anger and helplessness, all worry and grief. To extend the period of peace she so badly needed her brain suggested writing her sister a letter which would've been a useful and pleasant preoccupation were it not for the sudden remembrance of another letter – one that had been burning a hole in her pocket ever since Thornton had given it to her…

It was with trembling hands that she opened it, terrified of what she might read, warring with herself as to whether it was a good idea at all. This was something that Guy had wanted to say to her on his deathbed and therefore not applicable now that a) he was not about to die and b) he was about to marry Marian…

and yet…

she had to know...

had to read the words…

_I love you. _

_I did not deserve you but wish I had tried to._

_If I could have changed for anybody it would've been for you. _

_Forgive me._


	54. Chapter 54

LIV

"Wait… run that by me again..."

Robin had often admired Allan's ability to think outside the box, _this_ however was so outside the box that neither he nor the others could entertain it.

"Marian has no choice yeh? She can't call the weddin' off, else Gisborne'll hand her over to the sheriff right? But what if he gets second thoughts you know?"

"_He_? You think that _he_ would have second thoughts?" Much asked incredulously. Judging by the deeply sceptical look on Robin's face, he also had difficulty in picturing this scenario.

"Alright hear me out, you remember that girl we brought here?"

"Lady Francesca?" Will offered.

Allan nodded and was about to continue, but Will cut him off. "We didn't just _bring_ her Allan, it wasn't like 'hey, do you want to come visit our camp?' We kidnapped her!"

Allan shrugged as if it was a trifling detail, which made Djaq laugh. Robin squirmed; after all, it was he who'd done the kidnapping. He coughed and signalled for Allan to continue.

"Well, she and 'im definitely had a thing, I'd put money on it…"

"So?" Little John prompted.

"So err… maybe she could talk to 'im yeh? Get 'im thinkin' you know?"

"That's ridiculous!" Much declared.

"Hang on a minute Much…" Robin addressed his oldest friend, but his eyes never strayed from the man with the plan, "get him thinking what Allan?"

"Well, you saw what they were like together – get 'im thinkin' about that."

Robin had to admit that maybe Allan was onto something. The intimacy with which Francesca had handled Gisborne, coupled with how receptive he'd been to her attentions could not be denied. It was easy to think of Gisborne as a monster, to put him in that box, but witnessing Francesca with him had shown a different side to him, one that none of them wished to contemplate.

Thinking of the enemy in absolutes made it simpler to fight them, to see them as a human being capable of tender feelings did not. They were all guilty of this, but none more so than Robin. He had memories of Gisborne, of times spent together as boys that he could not allow himself to dwell on, so he chose to forget, to ignore, to deny. Francesca's behaviour towards his enemy had forced him to remember that Guy was more than just a monster and that's why he'd been all too happy to hand her and Gisborne back to the sheriff and forget about the whole thing.

"I do not think it will work. If he had wanted her, he would've called off the engagement when she first arrived no?" Djaq mused.

"No, because she is not free to accept him. Winchester is hardly going to stand aside because Gisborne wants her and her father is firmly under his thumb so he's not about to change his mind." Robin pointed out.

"All the more reason why this isn't going to work - he can't have her, so why would her talking to him make him want to call it off?" Much had always had a knack at illuminating the holes in any plan and it was no different here.

"Because sometimes we think with our heart instead of our brain." Djaq declared, adding kindling to her own spark of interest in the scheme.

Will rolled his eyes at the suggestion that Gisborne was in possession of a heart but then recalled how the knight had meekly submitted to the girl's ministrations in their camp and wasn't so sure anymore.

"You think it could work?" Robin asked, surprised at Djaq's apparent about-face.

"If we do not try, it will not." She replied, hitting the nail on the head as she so often did.

"An' it's better than sittin' 'ere innit?" Allan added, encouraged by Djaq's support.

Much disagreed, he was happy to sit here and was about to say so, but a stern look from Robin, who'd anticipated his reaction, made him keep his mouth shut.

"Well, I don't have a better idea." Will declared, directing the beginnings of a smile at Allan.

"Me neither." Little John said, taking staff in hand.

It was decided then. They would try.

*

The journey to Nottingham gave Robin opportunity to dwell on how shaky the plan was.

_There's too many factors out of our control… _

Not least of which, they hardly knew the girl and had done little to make her receptive to any suggestion they might make: the last time they'd seen her, they'd held her hostage and now were so brazen as to ask her for help. The odds were against them and that was putting it mildly.

_But she'd spoken out to help Allan hadn't she? _

It was this detail that convinced him. Not to have Francesca seduce Gisborne, no, from what little he knew of her, she would not do that he was sure, but perhaps he could get her to influence the knight in another way…

_If she knew how the engagement came about, how Gisborne trapped Marian into accepting him… _

She had proved herself good hearted; he'd heard of what she'd done for Mary Lambert and how she'd turned to Sir Edward on Allan's behalf, surely she would speak in Marian's favour if she knew that Gisborne was forcing her into marriage…

and maybe…

he would listen to her.

Robin scoffed at the very thought. It seemed so unlikely as to be impossible. But this is where they were at now; stuck with long shots and last resorts because all else had failed.

They would do it. Not just because it was better than doing nothing, but because they owed it to Marian to try to get her out of this - no matter how desperate the plan, no matter how unlikely the chance of success.

It was with this mindset that they approached Nottingham, determined to give it their best.

A shame then that it failed.

Didn't make it past the starting gate.

Literally.

It was bitter to reflect that for God knows how long, the outlaws had been coming and going at Nottingham castle as if they owned the place and now they couldn't get in for love nor money.

Robin had to hand it to Winchester; he'd got the place locked down. None of their usual strategies for breaching the place worked. The guards they had come to rely on as incompetent were diligent and efficient this day; eagle eyed, sharp witted, quick to call alarm and much improved in their fighting skills. Not to mention extremely numerous.

Whether this was for King Richard's benefit or the shape of things to come in Nottingham one could not say, but it was strange to conclude that the outlaw life had been easier with Vaisey at the helm.

It was with a heavy heart then, that the outlaws found themselves in the unusual position of having to retreat; the risk of injury or capture was too great.

On the way back to their forest den, Allan received sympathetic smiles and consoling pats on the shoulder from his friends - he accepted them in his usual casual jokey manner, but secretly it meant a lot to him that they'd been willing to try his improbable plan, success or failure.

Little did he know that even though they had failed, the very thing they had been trying to achieve was happening anyway...

Gisborne was having thoughts about the wedding.

* * *

Guy did not know when he had come to rely on wilful ignorance as a crutch for dealing with his life.

Perhaps it had been those early days in Vaisey's service when he'd realised that much of what his master did was cruel and unjust.

It pained him to recall how meekly he'd accepted his fate, how eager he'd been to buy into Vaisey's lies, how quick he'd been to submit to his will. It's easy to come to such a conclusion in hindsight though isn't it? To forget that he had been a boy - poor, friendless, homeless and desperate. Fact is, turning a blind eye to his master's vile acts had merely been the first of many methods to live with them.

As a coping strategy, it isn't the best. To choose to ignore a problem does nothing to solve it and to delay can make things worse. Vaisey was a textbook example. The longer Guy waited to confront his own feelings about the things his master did, the more opportunity Vaisey had to brainwash him.

Marian was another case in question. The signs that all was not well were there, plain as day. How many prospective grooms can claim to have their bride ask them if they tried to assassinate the king? It doesn't bode well for a happy marriage does it? And he might have gotten away with a vague non-answer on that one, but what exactly was he planning to do when she finds out that the king is an imposter? That he knew about it and went ahead with the wedding anyway? That he'd known that Sir Edward would walk into a trap and did nothing?

These were all valid concerns he had no answers to, indeed didn't even try to address – he just blustered on with wedding arrangements regardless.

And that wasn't even touching upon the fact that his bride was repulsed by him. He wasn't a man with many greatest hits when it came to erotic moments but not even he was so ignorant as to consider it a good thing when a woman gags just before you kiss her.

Did he honestly think that standing at the altar and saying 'I do' was going to make any of this go away?

Francesca had warned him. Had all but spelt it out for him.

"You have to stop."

_I know little one, I know…_

He did.

He knew exactly what he had to do but he was afraid.

To stop meant to betray Vaisey and to betray Vaisey meant to lose everything.

Any backpedalling on this one involved revealing Vaisey's plot and for that he would pay dearly, most probably with his life, but most certainly with all that Vaisey had bestowed upon him and there was no way he was giving up on his home again. It was selfish and weak but he couldn't.

So he did that which he always did - wilfully ignored the storm that was coming his way and told himself that he would try to somehow make it better.

_Once we are married…._

Four words that had been his mantra ever since Marian had accepted him. A deeply flawed mantra based on the premise that as his wife, he could protect her from Vaisey, which was, as Francesca astutely pointed out, not true. It was a fairy tale notion at best and a gross overestimation of Vaisey's regard for him at worst.

He knew this. He knew he was living in a dream world and yet in his desperation to live something approximating the life he'd lost and longed for ever since he was prepared to delude himself.

It was this he was trying not to think about as he found himself on the verge of breaking down in Nottingham stables. He'd finally got some time to himself after riding round like an idiot all day trying to make the wedding as perfect as possible, (with the absurd idea that decorations etc. would somehow compensate for the unpleasantness surrounding the event), when he overheard Lord Cavendish lecturing his daughter in a nearby courtyard.

_Nobody should ever speak to her like that. _ _ **Nobody** _ _. _

His anger flared, his fingernails dug deep into the flesh of his palms, but then…

the sadness came…

and it rocked him so hard he thought he would weep.

It would never be over for her would it? Even if Vaisey's plan worked and they were rid of Winchester, she would still have to put up with that pathetic excuse for a father. It seemed so bitterly unfair.

He leaned forward and silently screamed into the neck of his horse who startled and flailed, trying to tend to his master who was clinging to him like a drowning man. It took Guy a small eternity to collect himself before he let go to do something he had not done since he was a boy…

He got down on his knees and prayed.


	55. Chapter 55

LV

"What say you my man - is there still room at the front?"

The guard blinks confusedly at this question and makes sure to get a good look at the speaker. The nobleman is unruffled and patiently waits for an answer.

"Oh yes, we must be well situated Cedric, I ended up staring at the back of your head last time and that's hardly diverting."

Chuckles from all in the vicinity at this, particularly from 'Cedric' who is highly amused with the name that his friend has just made up for him.

"Well, how is it looking? Do you think we shall have a good view of his majesty or is the place overrun?"

The sentry frowns. All he'd had to do so far was check names on the guest list and now people were asking him questions. He didn't like it.

"Who wants to know?"

"Why, The King Richard Appreciation Society that's who!"

Shrugs. Bafflement.

"Now don't tell me you've never heard of us - we have members in such far flung places as Rochdale and Scarborough!"

If there were crickets in Nottingham, one would've been able to hear them right about now.

"Oh dear, you haven't… this is vexing indeed..."

'Cedric' has to hide his face in his sleeve at this because Allan is cracking him up. Little John nudges him as a reminder to get it together.

"Ah well, nevermind, we shall brave the crowds and make the best of it. For the love of the king you understand." He declares melodramatically and is rewarded for his fine acting skills with a hidden smile from Djaq.

No smile from the guard however, only a blank look, which is precisely what they're aiming for. There is a small crowd gathering behind them now and they're hoping he'll soon tire of their chatter and wave them through.

"Has Sir Edward of Knighton arrived? I am sure he would be so kind as to advise us where best to stand; he's always been very good to us when we've been visiting this fair town."

Allan knows he is taking a risk in namechecking Sir Edward; he is not one of the sheriff's favourite people after all, but figures it wouldn't hurt to have noble connections if they are to have a chance of getting in.

The guard sighs in irritation. They're holding everybody up. He scans the list and lo and behold, there is Sir Edward. It's good enough for him. He knows he's supposed to check their names, but they keep wittering on about the king and it's doing his head in. He's about to let them through, but hesitates as he notices the big man.

"He's a member of your society as well?"

"Why yes, of course! but Jo… Joffrey here doubles as a bodyguard – one can't be too careful these days, there's outlaws and unsavoury characters about you know."

How Allan kept a straight face whilst saying this, Will would never know. He had to turn away on the pretext of patting 'Joffrey' on the shoulder. Little John's unimpressed grimace at his new moniker only made him worse. This was no time for descending into fits of giggles though, because they were being scrutinized.

Fortunately, their finery, (stolen loot every bit of it), passed muster.

That is until the guard pulled up Djaq.

"You can't be telling me that he's in your club."

The 'nobles' floundered a moment before Will/Cedric smoothly took over, "Why ever not? He's a very good boy I tell you. We purchased him from one of the most respected handlers, indeed, if you're ever in need of one I can certainly recommend the fellow."

Murmurs of interest from some, but groans of exasperation from most. The guard decides he's finally had enough.

And so it came to pass that after all the trouble they'd had the previous evening, not only did Robin Hood's men get into the castle on the day of King Richard's visit, the guards were practically pushing them through the gate to the sounds of cheers from the nobles waiting in line behind them.

* * *

"I do enjoy a good wedding don't you?"

Francesca clenched her jaw and focussed upon the scenery outside the carriage. Perhaps if she ignored him he would shut up.

"Yes, all those ring kissers in Nottingham will be missing out today!"

_No such luck._

_Wait a minute…_

She frowned as her brain tried to make sense of the puzzle that was her future husband. What was so terrible in wanting to see the king instead of attending a wedding? And more to the point, who was he to look down on others for doing something he was notorious for? And if the wedding was so 'good' then why was her father staying in Nottingham with the rest of the 'ring kissers' as he so aptly put it?

_Then again, the shoe definitely fits there._

She brought her eyes to his, as if that would somehow help her solve the riddle, but instantly regretted it as he then, (for perhaps the first time ever), turned his attention to her well-being.

"My dear, you must not be sad today, I know you were once fond of him…"

_Were? I think you'll find that I still am._

"But you must understand that Gisborne is on the way out you know? Not that he was ever really _in _if you catch my meaning… poor prospects… whereas you and I…" He gestured expansively to signify their great prospects and it looked so ridiculous that under other circumstances she would've laughed.

As it was, she bit back a frustrated sigh, not knowing which was more excruciating; the faux concern for her or the ridiculous assumption that his having better prospects would make her more comfortable with marrying him and less distraught to lose the man she loved. Not for the first time, she decided he was utterly absurd.

Naturally, she kept such sentiments to herself, merely nodding to show that she had understood and that seemed to satisfy him.

For all of two seconds.

"And we make quite the pair do we not? I for one am not ashamed to be seen with you."

Francesca repressed a cringe. She could neither agree nor reciprocate so she pretended to be flattered whilst wondering if she could jump out of the carriage and run to the hills.

Or maybe the forest?

_Any outlaws up for kidnapping me today? I am not above begging…_

Winchester gave her a respite from his chatter to fuss over his attire and she rolled her eyes at his vanity, that being the obvious source of his 'compliment' – it went without saying that any positive words from him concerning her appearance were only to be understood in terms of how she might make him look better.

Still, whichever way she wanted to take it, she supposed she should be grateful to receive any compliments at all considering how terrible she felt. Despite her talent for hiding her emotions, a part of her still boggled that the sadness she felt was not blatantly obvious. To her it was as if a black veil clung to every inch of her, inside and out, colouring all that she was but when she looked in the mirror, she looked no different, not in any way that would be noticeable to most people and certainly not to self-absorbed types such as Winchester.

Dot Whittleworth had seen it though.

She'd arrived at the castle that morning, grumbling good-naturedly about the guards and the twenty questions she'd had to answer to get in the place, and the first thing she did was pull Francesca into a hug. Struggling to contain her tears, Francesca pulled out of the embrace only to erupt into sobs as soon as she saw the finished scarves. Dot pulled her back into her arms, completely unsurprised at this outburst and held her as she wept.

"There now, they're not that bad surely!" Dot quipped, to which Francesca could only laugh. They were in fact beautiful and Francesca said as much as soon as she managed to quit laughing and crying simultaneously.

In truth, as she had visited her the previous afternoon with scarves and patterns in tow, she had not thought the old lady would be finished in time nor that the work would be so finely wrought but she had never been happier to be proved wrong.

Her happiness was short-lived however, as her father disturbed it by banging on the door of her chamber and yelling at her to get a move on.

She smiled sadly at Dot in apology for the rude interruption and drew her into one last hug, thanking her from the bottom of her heart before paying her liberally for a job well done and declaring that if her father would allow it, she would certainly come visit her again soon.

If she could have, she would have said much more. She would've thanked her for being there for her, for noticing her sadness and comforting her, for making her laugh at a moment where she felt she might never stop weeping. Where others would judge her harshly for loving such a man, Dot had shown her understanding and compassion - had even gone so far as to tell her Guy's story – something that brought her closer to him, made her better able to understand him and…

wish him the best.

That's what the scarves were for. That's what Dot had been helping her to do.

It was thoughts of her friend that helped her keep her head up as the carriage drew closer to Locksley. Winchester would probably think that it had been his doing, but she couldn't care less. In fact, she made it her mission to tune out any further pointless chatter from him the rest of the way and focus upon the good people in her life, letting her thoughts of them soothe her as best they could in the battle against her ever-increasing agitation.

All too soon, the church came into view and the carriage came to a standstill. Francesca could already feel a painful lump forming in her throat and tears burning in her eyes, but willed herself to keep all effusions of emotion at bay.

_This is not about you, it never was. This is their day._

She took a moment to breathe, reflexively running her fingers over the piece of paper in her pocket as she had so many times since the previous evening – unconsciously seeking comfort in the physical reminder that Guy had once loved her.

Wasn't that what she had wanted? What she had agonized over all these years? 

Now she had her answer...

and was that not more than she'd thought she would ever have?

It could so easily have turned out differently. She could've still been sitting in the nursery at her sister's house none the wiser, but no, now she knew and he was lost to her, yes, but did she not always think that he would be?

As Winchester took her hand to help her out of the carriage, she tried to think of this. She had so much more than she'd ever thought she would have, indeed for most of her life she'd never thought that anybody would love her in that way at all.

Blessed and cursed. Bittersweet as life so often is. A small smile crept upon her lips, one of self-consolation but also gratitude. _You will get through this._

"Are you amused my dear? Yes, I must admit it is rather amusing isn't it?" Winchester gestured to the decorations, all smirks and mocking tones, "Still, I suppose it's the best _he_ could do which was never going to amount to much was it?"

Francesca clenches her jaw, offended on Guy's behalf. She sees villagers arriving with flowers and can't find fault with their efforts.

"Now, our wedding will be something else entirely - nothing but the finest I assure you, nobody will be abandoning our wedding in favour of a king that isn't coming that's for sure."

She turns abruptly to face him.

_What do you mean 'isn't coming'?_

Normally she wouldn't want to know. In fact, when it came to business, she found it better not to, but this… well, this was too interesting to ignore.

"You do not think he will come?"

"No, I do not. I would've heard if he had such plans."

Winchester left it at that to greet the men standing guard outside the church and she politely did the same whilst pondering what the king's non-arrival might mean for them all.

Her eyes drift to a dark figure talking with his manservant by the pond and she wonders if he knows.

* * *

"Thornton, are you married?"

"Alas, my wife has died Sir."

A twinge of shame hits Guy that he doesn't already know this; Thornton has been working for him for years. He sighs. Another sin to add to the pile.

"Did she understand you?"

"I think so Sir. Yes." Thornton smiles fondly and Guy wonders if he will someday smile that way when speaking of Marian.

"That is the thing isn't it? To be understood..."

"Oh yes indeed Sir."

Will she understand him though? Will she be able to look past the things he has done?

"I have committed crimes."

"Really?"

"Heinous crimes..."

_You have no idea…_

"… but by taking Marian in holy wedlock, it will wash away those crimes…

her pure heart will cleanse mine."


	56. Chapter 56

LVI

Marian looked stunning, there were no two ways about that.

Francesca figured she could've worn sackcloth and still enraptured them all with her beauty, but to see her in wedding dress and veil; well, it was jaw dropping. Judging by the degree to which Winchester's jaw hung open, he was inclined to agree. Francesca studied him curiously, unperturbed at his interest in the bride, indeed actually pleased by it because it meant that he shut up for two minutes together.

What did perturb her however was what he did next.

Just as Marian was about to walk down the aisle, he left his place in the pews to go to her. It surprised and irritated Francesca, not because she felt any sort of jealousy, no, never that, but because this was Marian's moment and he was intruding.

It seems that others felt the same way because grumbling broke out amongst attendees at the back of the church; they would've forgiven an interruption from her father or a relative but this man? A family friend who hadn't been around for years? It was hardly appropriate.

_What could he possibly have to say to her that cannot wait?_

At the sight of him approaching, Marian's expression turned sour. It was for this reason Francesca followed him, sensing that nothing good was to come of this.

As Winchester then pulled her into an embrace, tossing aside her veil to clumsily kiss her on the cheek, Francesca felt a jolt of outrage, not for herself but for Marian - after all, who would want this (from him of all people) just as one is about to walk down the aisle?

_This is her day, how can he just insert himself into the proceedings like that?_

Then again, wasn't this just typical for him? Did he not think that everything revolved around him? Why should it be any different here? He'd already trampled on their engagement party so why not the wedding as well?

He tightened the clinch and Marian squirmed in his grasp. Francesca was aghast. Her horror swiftly gave way to anger and disgust, knowing all too well what it was like to be on the receiving end of unwanted attention from an unwelcome source.

She turned to see if Guy had gotten wind of this. Alas, he had not. He was standing at the altar, eyes to the front, head bowed. Clearly, nobody had bothered to tell him that his bride had arrived inside the church, nor that she was currently being molested by another man. Francesca coughed loudly in the hope that it might attract his attention or at least bring Winchester to his senses. On the latter count it worked, the lord backed off slightly, but not before gripping hard upon Marian's wrist and hissing in her ear,

"He is finished, you know. I'm going to see to it. Who will you turn to then? When everything here belongs to me? If you beg me, I might give him a job. If you are nice to me…" The innuendo implied here was evident in his malicious tones but then his tone darkened, "I'm going to remind you every day of how you looked down your nose at me, you can count on it."

He pulled her close for once last squeeze and Marian had finally had enough - shoving hard to disentangle herself from him. Francesca gave a sigh of relief, but it didn't last long for although Winchester walked out, (uninterested in the wedding now that he'd said his piece), it was Marian who now gave cause for alarm or more specifically the look of panic on Marian's face.

Francesca instinctively rushed forward and was shocked to witness Marian collapsing in front of her. She reflexively brought her hands up to catch her and as her fingers met her waist, Marian flinched and yelped in pain before slumping against her, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Help me." She whimpered, voice barely above a whisper.

Francesca was about to ask what was wrong but didn't get chance.

"What's going on?" The booming voice was unmistakable and Francesca was relieved that Guy was finally with the program.

Marian couldn't say the same. On the contrary, her panic level raised several notches.

"No, please! He cannot know! Please help me!"

Francesca had no idea what she was talking about. It was then that she felt a strange wet sensation against her hand and looked down to discover blood.

_What the…?_

"I think my stitches broke… as he grabbed me..." Marian gritted out, nodding in the direction of the departed Winchester.

"Stitches!?"

_Why would you have…_

_ **Oh God, no.** _

Francesca's mouth dropped open. The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks.

_No._

_You cannot be…_

As if to contradict, her mind helpfully supplied her with a rerun of Thornton's words from the previous day,

"_The Nightwatchman… not much I can say about him other than he wears a mask and a cape… and as of last night a nasty wound to the abdomen."_

Francesca had exactly zero seconds to digest this revelation and then…

all was chaos.

At once, there were people everywhere. Some rushing to Marian's aid, others stood frozen to the spot with mouths gaping and eyes fixed upon the two women, most pushing to get a better view with which to gawk at them…

and behind them all…

Guy.

Trying to push through the crowd.

_Oh God…_

_He's about to find out!_

Panic took hold of Francesca, paralysing her completely.

Luckily Marian was over that point and thinking on her feet. She noticed that Francesca had a bundle in her hands and shuffled to have it pressing against the wound.

In a moment of absurdity, Francesca felt sad as she watched Marian's blood stain the wedding gift she'd gone to so much trouble to procure before internally screaming at herself to get it together and help this woman who was eyehole deep in trouble and about to go under.

Her first instinct was to steer them both so that her body obscured Guy's view of Marian. Her second, was to tie one of the scarves around Marian's waist so that it would secure the other against the wound. In this endeavour she was aided by Thornton, who'd followed Francesca as soon as he'd seen Winchester make a move and now held Marian up from behind thus freeing Francesca's hands to sort out the makeshift bandage. It was another Locksley servant who offered a cloak to put around Marian and not a moment too soon for Guy was practically upon them as Francesca finished the job and pulled the cloak to the front to cover the parts of the stricken bride Guy should not see.

Marian flashed her a relieved smile…

and then fainted.

"What is wrong with her?" Guy thundered, a suspicious glare directed at the group assembled around the now unconscious lady.

Francesca felt panic grip her once more. Guy could read her so well that if she turned to face him, he would instantly know something was amiss.

Fortunately, Thornton stepped in to give answers where she could not. "I fear it is an attack of nerves Sir Guy…"

"Nerves?"

Francesca shivered at the sceptical tone and busied herself with surreptitiously wiping blood off her hands with the inside of the cloak and tying it so it wouldn't fly open and give the game away.

"Yes, well, as you know she's been having trouble since yesterday and it can't be easy for her without her father here…"

"Is that why you are here?"

At first, Francesca didn't realise that it was her he was addressing, though as he roughly twisted her to face him, she certainly got up to speed.

"Yes, I noticed she was upset."

_Not a word of a lie there. A grave omission yes, but no lie._

Guy softened at this. For a moment.

"What did she say to you?" There was that icy glare again and it made Francesca feel as if she were as small as a mouse.

"She collapsed… her legs were gone and I caught her… she asked me to help her…" Francesca was stammering and praying to God that Guy did not find her manner suspicious.

Guy, for his part did not - he put her behaviour down to shock. His suspicion was reserved for another woman; the one he should at this very moment be marrying. "She asked you to help her?"

"Yes, she panicked; it was just before she passed out."

Again, no lie. Francesca didn't want to push her luck though, so she said no more.

Thankfully, Thornton was once more to the rescue, "Sir Guy, you can see she is unwell. Would it not be better to remove her?"

"**No.**"

Guy was digging in his heels, assuming that this was some ploy on Marian's part.

"Well, I can't hold her all day; would it not be better for her to lie down?" Thornton reasoned.

"You can't marry her like this Sir Guy, I mean, look at her…" This came from Thornton's fellow colleague Emily, who'd sprung into action as soon as Marian had collapsed, trying to shield her from gawkers and keep them at bay.

It was these gawkers though, who were now murmuring their agreement, trying to make Guy see sense.

"She's not going anywhere." Guy growled, rising up to full height, his posture a challenge to any who would defy him.

Francesca despaired. If things carried on like this, Marian would bleed out whilst they were still debating.

"Has someone gone to fetch a healer?" Someone from within the crowd of onlookers inquired, effectively reading Francesca's mind.

"I'll go." Francesca offered, mindful that not just any healer would do on this one; they couldn't have whoever tended to her blabbing to Guy or the sheriff.

"No. You stay here." Guy's tone brooked no refusal.

"Well, at least let me get her comfortable then."

_Please Guy…_

The knight brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose and muttering under his breath conceded defeat with a nod.

Emily yelled for everybody to back off whilst Thornton and a volunteer carried Marian to a more secluded spot in the church behind the altar. Francesca was about to follow them, but took a moment to take Emily to one side.

"Fetch Mary Lambert." She whispered.

Emily nodded and was about to leave, but hesitated because there was something she wanted clearing up first, "This isn't a case of wedding nerves is it?"

Francesca looked nervously in Guy's direction before whispering,

"Tell her it's serious."

* * *

"What in heaven's name is going on?"

Much was watching the stream of guests departing Locksley church and looked to Robin to see if he knew. His friend is shaking his head, sadly none the wiser.

No bells. No confetti. No cheering from the crowd.

No bride and groom.

_This day just keeps getting stranger._

He remembered the light-hearted banter of the early morning as the outlaws had been donning their finery for the sojourn to Nottingham as 'The King Richard Appreciation Society'. Allan and Will had been getting into their respective roles; adopting plummy voices and making the rest of them laugh to distract them from their nerves. It had worked so well that Much almost forgot they were about to embark on a dangerous mission.

He didn't have a problem remembering as someone recognised Robin on the outskirts of Nottingham though. Yes, that sort of thing always brings one swiftly back down to earth doesn't it? and before he knew what he was doing, he was running in the other direction yelling at the guards to draw them away from Robin and the others.

Then, after losing the mob tailing him, he'd been on his way to catch up with the gang at the usual meeting point when he'd run into the king.

Except it wasn't him.

Not even close.

He'd run to tell Robin as fast as his legs would carry him only to find himself very nearly on collision course with Winchester. A quick game of hide and seek later and Much wisely disappeared into the forest to find his master waiting for him with the good news that at least the others had been successful in getting inside the castle.

Problem was, they didn't know that the king is an imposter, i.e. 'The King Richard Appreciation Society' doesn't know that it's not King Richard.

It goes without saying that they need to warn them, but that's easier said than done when you're the most notorious man in Nottingham.

One thing they can do though is stop the wedding. If Marian knew about the king, there's no way she'd go through with it.

Which brings us to the present moment and the confusing scene at Locksley church. Has the wedding happened? Has it not happened? Where is Marian?

They would very much like to know the answers to these questions but just as at the castle, there are guards everywhere, which means they can't just go over and ask somebody.

They continue watching the scene whilst thinking what they might do to get some answers when the priest departs the church in the direction of the vicarage.

Robin smiles.

"Whoever said the Lord doesn't answer our prayers?"


	57. Chapter 57

LVII

"What is that?"

After his guests had left, Guy retired to the front row pews; a location that seemed to suggest he was expecting to get this show on the road any minute, his dejected posture however, suggested something else entirely.

In the immediate aftermath of Marian's collapse, it had naturally been his wish to stay at her side, but Thornton had insisted that he leave her care to Francesca and since he trusted her and recognised that he was the source of Marian's nervous distress, he'd wisely taken Thornton's advice.

Nevertheless, he was not a patient man, and it was on one of his bouts of restless pacing that he noticed something on the ground not far from the altar.

It was a piece of fabric. Clothing of some sort. Forgotten by a guest in haste to leave this joke of a wedding in favour of Nottingham and King Richard most likely.

He went to pick it up, intrigued by the colour and immediately recognised it as one of the scarves Francesca had shown him yesterday. The most recent addition to the garment only confirmed his suspicion.

_Would recognise that family crest anywhere._

The smile that curled at the corner of his lips fell away at the sight of Marian's family crest beside it. He would've likely sunk further into dejection, reflecting on the sad state of affairs between himself and that lady were it not for the sight of something else on the scarf that he would recognise anywhere…

Blood.

_Francesca!_

His heart leapt into his mouth and his legs carried him forwards before he knew what he was doing. All he knew was that she was bleeding and he had to get to her.

But then he stopped.

_Wait…_

The realisation hit him so hard he literally staggered backwards.

_Oh you fool._

He could've slapped himself.

There was nothing wrong with Francesca.

He couldn't say what happened next because he saw red, but Thornton would most certainly remember it for it was the first time his master had ever laid a hand upon him and the shock of it hurt almost as much as being forcefully shoved out of the way and landing hard upon the cold stone floor.

"**Why is she bleeding?**"

Francesca had her back to Guy. Her body shielding Marian. Eyes clenched tightly shut. Length curling in on itself in utter dread. She turned slowly to find Guy looming large in front of her with a bloodied scarf in his hand and a look on his face that made her want to disappear.

She said nothing. She didn't have to. Terror spoke for itself, didn't it? It certainly did as he made to move her out of the way for she winced as if he was about to strike her and it depresses him that she could think he ever would but this is soon replaced by a myriad of other emotions as he finally sees Marian.

She is beautiful, even sickly pale like this and he curses himself for being so taken in by her to notice it even now, but then he's always been blind when it came to her and he has a feeling he is about to find out just how stupidly blind he has been.

He smirks as his eyes drift to the cloak. He'd noticed it earlier but had thought no more of it other than to wonder why she was hiding her dress when he'd seen it already. He had swiftly dismissed it as some part of the ceremony he wasn't acquainted with, much like how he'd not known to wait for her inside the church and he could laugh at his naivety now.

_Idiot._

He crouches down to remove the offending garment and hears Thornton, who is hovering nearby, inhale sharply. He is of a mind to drag him over and get him to do it, but in the end he does it himself, his heart thrumming loud in his ears and a terrible dread tugging low in his stomach.

At first all he sees is her clothing in disarray, the fabric of her dress all bunched together, clumsily held in place by the other scarf. He removes it, glaring icily at Francesca as he does so and tosses it at her feet. Then he takes in the mess of blood and clothing beneath and his vision whites out as it finally goes 'click' in his mind.

"No."

His voice is small and pathetic and for a moment, he doesn't recognise it as his own.

"No... not you..."

He looks at his bride, so small, so helpless and his brain simply will not have it, but then his eyes drift back to the wound... the wound he inflicted... and the world as he has known it shatters.

He jolts backwards causing Thornton and Francesca to flinch. Then he takes one look at Francesca to see if she is seeing this too...

and the look on her face says it all.

*

Francesca winces as she hears another pew topple over.

He's left a trail of carnage in his wake: broken flowers, upended furniture, decimated decorations… It makes her think that her decision to come talk to him might not be a good one. Thornton, bless him, had offered to do the job, but she insisted he stay with Marian and keep pressure on the wound.

She would've left it altogether and waited until Mary Lambert arrives, but somebody has to talk sense into Guy because in his rage he's bolted the door thus blocking the only chance to save Marian's life.

"Guy, please..."

He's about to smash a cross he's torn off the wall into pieces but stops. The look in his eyes is deepest pain. In an instant, his features contort into icy hatred. He pulls the bloodied scarf from his pocket and thrusts it in her face.

"You tried to conceal this from me."

She nods. Feels like the lowest of the low, but has decency enough not to lie to him. She stares lamely at the scarf and curses that she's been so careless, but everything had happened so fast and it's easy to lose sight of things in the rush of the moment. She wonders when it slipped from Marian's body and thinks it was probably as they were carrying her behind the altar.

"I just wanted to help her..."

"Her! You wanted to help her!? A traitor! A liar and a thief!"

"She collapsed in my arms! Your bride! The woman you love!"

"I never loved her." The hatred in his voice is chilling. Francesca gapes.

"What are you talking about!? You were about to marry her!"

"Are you really so naïve? I did it so _**he**_ couldn't have her!"

"Who?"

"Hood of course!"

She groans and sinks her head in her hands because she despairs of him. "That's what this is all about? Revenge!? You would bind her to you for the rest of your life just so that he cannot have her!?"

She is shaking now, her anger taking complete hold as the full implications of his hatred for Robin become clear. She snatches the bloodied scarf from him and thrusts it in his face, "Is this why you bolted the door? So he can't have her? You would rather she die…"

"She deserves no better." He growls and she looks at him as if he is the lowest creature she's ever had the misfortune to set eyes upon.

"No matter what she has done, she is still a person! Flesh and blood. Thoughts and feelings. Not some plaything to be pushed and pulled between rivals! or discarded when it doesn't suit!"

"**She betrayed me!**"

"Yes she did! But it does not give you the right to play judge, jury and executioner Guy!"

She turns from him, fighting to catch her breath after her yelling and feels the seriousness of the situation settle upon her. If she cannot convince him, Marian will die. That is where they're at now. Panic spikes in her veins and she feels she might cry because she knows how stubborn he can be – how difficult it is to reach him. She breathes deeply and tries to calm herself for yelling isn't going to do it, that much she knows.

She turns to face him and steels herself for whatever he might throw at her. "Guy, do you not realise that if she dies, you will suffer too? Yes, you will have taken her from him, but deep down you will always know she was not yours…"

He scoffs at this, but she can tell she's hit a nerve and it gives her a sliver of encouragement to continue. "Her death makes none of what she did undone, it makes her betrayal no easier to live with, on the contrary, it makes it worse because you give her no chance to explain herself."

"I have no wish to hear her."

"Believe me, you might think that now, but later when you have to live with her death - knowing that you could have saved her - you will want to know why she did what she did."

"You do not understand. There is no way she can come out of this alive. You can patch her together and she can explain herself how ever she chooses, but the sheriff _will _hang her. That is a fact."

She shakes her head. "Not if he doesn't find out…"

"Have you lost your mind!? Are you seriously suggesting I keep this from him? That I should lie to protect an outlaw?"

"Guy, she's just a girl…"

"She is not! She broke the law…"

"Oh Guy, you of all people should know that the law is not what it should be."

This makes him livid. "What are you talking about? In what world is robbing people acceptable?"

"In what world is taking money from the poor to furnish the pockets of the rich acceptable? And don't answer that because I can already tell you: in this one. But let's not pretend that it is right or that it is fair or that it is justice because it's not – it never was and it never will be. It is wrong, but the powers that be will tell you that it is the law and why? Because it suits them."

"What would you know about the law? You are the daughter of a nobleman: one of the rich you now choose to deride…"

"You are right. I cannot fault your argument. I am privileged. Sheltered. Have seen little of the world. But I know what it is to abide by the law. Indeed, it is all I have ever known for I have had to bow, scrape and bend to fit every rule my father ever set for me my entire life." The bitterness in her tone is unmistakable. She is trying to keep a grip on her anger, but it's difficult when touching upon such a sore subject that she's hardly ever allowed herself to speak of.

"You ask me what I know about the law? Well, in my experience, the law is whatever whoever is laying it down wants it to be. My father. Vaisey. Winchester. Prince John. You."

He is visibly shocked. Had never expected her to be so candid. What she is saying is dangerous. Would most certainly be interpreted as sympathising with outlaws and he can hardly believe it.

This is one day however where she will not be a good little girl and hold her tongue because there is a life at stake here and if she has to dish out a few uncomfortable truths to get through to him then so be it.

She moves in closer. Looks him directly in the eye.

"You know what toeing the line has cost me..."

There's no need to elaborate on this one, they know all too well what was lost that day she left all those years ago.

"You see where it has gotten me..."

Again, no explanation needed, the sad reality of her everyday existence speaks for itself.

"And you know how it will be for me..."

She smiles, but it is a parody of a smile for behind it is an ocean of sadness and it is heart-breaking for him to behold.

"He insists you uphold the law and murders your friend. He demands your loyalty, yet abandons you when you are sick. You attend to his every whim, yet he humiliates you constantly. If this is how he treats his most loyal servant, can you blame others for defying him? We know what he will do with her Guy, but the question is are you going to let him? Or are you going to be the man that I know you are underneath all of what Vaisey wants you to be?"

He snarls, apparently unmoved. "You don't know me. You never did. You latched on to me – the first man who paid you any attention no doubt, but you didn't know me, not even then."

The words sting like a slap. Her bottom lip wavers a moment, but then she raises her head and sets her jaw.

"Oh, but I do Guy. I saw you then: who you are when he is not around to bend you to his will. I understand you better than you can ever imagine because I know what it is to be someone else. In my family, I rank scarcely better than a servant and therefore have no choice but to be whatever they want me to be…

but when I was with you, I didn't have to pretend, I didn't have to hide, I didn't have to lie... and maybe I'm naïve, maybe I'm deluded, maybe I'm fooling myself but I think it was the same for you."

He freezes. Eyes wide. Mouth agape. She keeps going regardless.

"And do you know what? I would like to be that person again - the girl I was with you, but I can't be because I'm tied to people who won't let me – my father, Natalia, Winchester. But whenever I get chance, I still try to be that girl because I won't let them erase her completely, I won't have them trample on who I am and the only way to do that is to try." She pauses to breathe, to slow herself down, the words tumbled out of her, held back by years upon years of keeping them to herself, but now she can tell him because this is something he needs to understand if there's to be any chance for him to back down.

"Will you try for me Guy? Try for yourself? To be who you really are without his shadow looming over you? Her death achieves nothing; it is not right or just. All it will be is one more instance of him forcing you to live with another life lost. Was Lambert not enough? How many more Guy? Do you think it will ever stop? And more to the point, do you want it to?" She tilts her head and looks at him now. Really looks at him. Willing him to listen.

"Then open the door and let Mary in."

She moves away now. Exhausted. Has worn herself out with her monologue.

Sadly to no avail, for he makes no move to open the door and it doesn't look as if he is going to. He will choose Vaisey just as he always has.

She sighs and goes to check on Marian, little realising he is following her.

The Lady of Knighton makes for a sorry sight. Pale. Weak. Forlorn. Thornton smiles wanly, that's how Francesca knows she still lives but the sad look that follows says all one needs to know. She lowers herself to sit at Marian's other side and takes her hand in her own, gently stroking her palm with her thumb. Her thoughts drift to Sir Edward, how terrible it will be for him to lose his daughter and the tears are flowing then, she can't hold them back.

Guy is hovering nearby and she senses him. She looks up at him in one last silent plea.

_Look at her Guy._

_Please... don't do this..._

_don't have me sit here and watch her die..._

Silence. Bowed heads. Darkness and despair. The sand in the hourglass runs low. The candle flickers and sputters in the corner of the room. She sighs and squeezes Marian's hand.

It happens then.

The wonder.

He had given no sign of it with those cold eyes boring into her, but finally he relents.

The sound of the door being opened is the sweetest sound in the world.

Mary Lambert is with them in a heartbeat and yet Francesca barely registers because all she can see is him

and then…

he is gone.


	58. Chapter 58

LVIII

Hiding in plain sight as 'nobility' was only good for so long.

Once through the gates, it was clear that 'The King Richard Appreciation Society' must be disbanded. Fooling the guards was one thing, but even in the finest robes, there would be no fooling Vaisey or Winchester – their faces were too well known for that now.

In this part of the plan they were assisted by Sir Edward, who, with other lords here to warn the king, had smuggled in cloaks for them. They were most grateful for this, not least when Winchester rode in through the main gate, paying no heed to the cloaked figures observing him from nearby.

Weapons was another story though. The guards had been thorough in searching all visitors as befits such an important event, which meant that should they have to fight their way out, all they had was their fists. To remedy this, Allan suggested they pay a visit to the kitchens; he was 'acquainted' with a girl who worked there who would probably help them if they explained the urgency of the situation or at least cause a distraction whilst they helped themselves to the more dangerous kitchen items.

They agreed to give it a go since nobody had a better idea and it was just as they were making their way down there, that it all went a bit wrong.

"You there! Stop! Where are you going?"

Allan froze. He'd gone on ahead to see if the coast was clear and now Winchester had him. He swore under his breath, panic spiking in his veins.

He turned slowly and pulled down his hood. "Why to find you of course!" He was completely winging it here, stalling for time, hoping that the lads were not too far behind.

"Ah Allan, I was wondering when I'd see you again, I hope you've got good news for me."

The outlaw smiled and was about to spout whatever made up drivel came to mind, but was spared the bother because Little John snuck up behind the lord and smashed him in the back of the head.

(Again).

This time with his elbow.

It was glorious.

Grins were exchanged, grateful looks as well - they couldn't hang around though; time was of the essence. They dragged the unconscious nobleman to a nearby pantry, located the correct key on his belt and locked him in. Not before Allan put the boot in though, he figured the snake had earned that much by trying to make him betray his friends.

Having dealt with this hiccup, all went smoothly from there: Allan's lady friend came up good for them, they found Sir Edward in the main hall and the king showed up with befitting pomp and fanfare.

As the monarch then turned on Vaisey, it seemed too good to be true.

As it turned out, it was...

* * *

"Do you wish to give evidence against the sheriff?"

"A clue: no!"

It had been a close shave no doubt about that.

The priest had done them an inestimable service. They never would've gotten through security without him and Sir Edward would've been murdered before they could get to him. Nor would Robin have his bow: so important in moments like this, so essential to their fight, so difficult to conceal... but not if you have a holy man, his cart and a length of twine to secure it to the underside.

In the event, there was no search - they could've smuggled in all the weapons they wanted, but that's easy to say in hindsight and it's not wise to put a mission at risk with careless assumptions.

Added to that, they'd put a major obstacle in the way of any further marriage plans: you can't have a wedding without a priest can you? Imagining how upset Gisborne was going to be when he finds out had kept a smile on Robin's dial all the way to Nottingham.

_Ah Marian, I should've known you would find a way…_

That Gisborne had fallen for it was a surprise though. It must have been incredible acting on her part to convince him. Much had said the same - wondering that the knight had not dragged her to the altar, sick with nerves or not.

Whatever feat of acting it had required, it was an enormous weight off Robin's mind. He'd been faced with an impossible choice – help Sir Edward to warn the king or help Marian and stop the wedding and not even Robin Hood can be in two places at once.

It had been a gamble to help Sir Edward and he'd been well aware that in doing so he could lose Marian to Gisborne but he'd hoped that in recognition of his loyal service he could ask the king for an annulment on Marian's behalf.

As it was, it hadn't come to that and it's a good job too, for whoever this man was in the great hall of Nottingham, King Richard he was not. Much did the honours in letting all in attendance know and put himself at great risk in the process - Vaisey had grabbed him in a last ditch effort to stop their escape, but Robin had outsmarted him with one of his finest displays of archery yet and if the 'king' had been a let down, then the sight of Vaisey dangling upside down from the ceiling gaping and writhing like a fish on a line had more than made up for it.

It was only once they were out of there that Robin and Much discovered what had become of Winchester, courtesy of an amusing demonstration by Allan and Will. Little John himself merely shrugged and smiled as Djaq told him not to be so modest.

They'd triumphed again. Had foiled yet another of Vaisey's schemes and could go home to their forest den as heroes. Luck had been on their side, they were not so brazen as to forget that however invincible they might feel, but for an evening they would allow themselves to enjoy their good work and great fortune.

Vaisey and Winchester would regroup and strike back, that much was certain, but today they would give thanks and be merry.

* * *

"Is the king still here or have I missed him?"

If looks could kill, Winchester would be dead right now.

Indeed, in Vaisey's mind, he's already suffered a thousand unpleasant deaths and if the fool keeps it up with the sarcasm, they won't be confined to the realm of imagination much longer.

"I'm afraid you missed him, right about the time you got yourself locked in the pantry."

Now it was Winchester's turn to seethe and fix his rival with a murderous look – it was typical that Vaisey had found out about that – there was no keeping anything from him.

He was about to remark that perhaps Vaisey should've got himself locked in the pantry as well since getting strung up from the rafters by his shoe could hardly be considered a triumph, but Gisborne has just walked in and his demeanour is hardly that of a glowing newlywed. 

"Good lord Gisborne, has she thrown you out already? That must be a record..."

The knight does not respond to Vaisey's quip, merely slumps into his seat and brings his fingers to the bridge of his nose. This must be a code amongst the servants to bring alcohol because one of the serving wenches promptly places a goblet of wine before him, which he downs in one pull.

"Trouble in paradise?" Winchester quips, unable to resist putting his oar in.

"You could say that." Gisborne remarks bitterly.

Lord Cavendish storms in, clearly in a temper and Guy wonders what on earth could he have to be so upset about. The answer arrives in the form of Francesca, who enters the dining hall looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

"Tell me Vaisey; are your guards completely incompetent?" Cavendish barks whilst pulling his daughter by the elbow and shoving her into a chair.

Vaisey's expression darkens considerably. This is a sore subject. The pathetic display of resistance against the outlaws earlier is an open wound for the sheriff and Cavendish is sticking his finger in it. He deals with the failure as he always does and passes the buck.

"Ask him." He points to Winchester. "He was the one 'dealing with it'."

Winchester was about to round upon Vaisey in the same manner, but it seems Cavendish is not yet finished with venting his frustrations.

"I was looking for her everywhere..." He gestures furiously to Francesca, who shrinks in her seat, "None of those buffoons could tell me where she was and so I was forced to go on a wild goose chase round the villages..."

Guy rolls his eyes at the nobleman's 'plight' and has an uncontrollable urge to deck him. '_Try having a day like the one I've just had'_ is what he's thinking and as he looks at his master, he can tell he's thinking along similar lines.

"And where do I find her? Mother-henning the Knighton girl! Not a guard in sight!" He jolts the back of her chair round to face him and she almost falls off. Guy springs to his feet with every intention of decking him, but is held back by Vaisey's hand upon his shoulder.

"I told you last night how you are to behave, but it seems that you are determined to defy me..." Cavendish hisses in her face and she keeps her head bowed to conceal her rising temper.

"I don't care that she was ill. I don't want to hear about how she collapsed. Her nerves are of no consequence to me nor the aborted wedding. Where her father is or is not does not interest me." He grabs her chin now, forcing eye contact. "You are my concern. Not anybody else and I will have you obey me. From now on, you will go nowhere. You will stay in this building. I can't trust you to go out so you will not. You will have guards with you morning, noon and night and if I hear that you have gone off alone again, I will beat you black and blue so help me god. Do you understand?"

She nods, her anger expertly concealed behind a mask of meek obedience. He nods in return, satisfied he's gotten the message across and then storms out of the room slamming the door behind him.

There is a moment of silence amongst those who remain, broken only as Vaisey begins to laugh.

And boy does he.

It is a cruel laugh, long and loud and the target of his amusement is obvious.

"Oh Gisborne, I handed her to you on a plate and you still couldn't do anything with her..." The sheriff shakes his head in disbelief but this is merely put on - he's eating this up, "Short of tying her down, I'm not sure what more I can do for you."

"She didn't go through with it!?" Winchester was obviously not up to speed with all that had happened since his departure from the church.

Vaisey merely shoots him a withering look before continuing with mocking tones, "Did she stub her toe was that it? Or break a nail? Was it because daddy dearest wasn't there to hold her hand? I gave you King Richard, and yet you still couldn't get her to the altar!"

Nobody interrupts to point out that actually it wasn't King Richard because Vaisey is in full flow and it's beside the point anyway.

"Whatever shall I do with you? I indulge you in your ambitions, I tolerate your mopey patheticness, I give you everything you need to marry her and yet you still mess it up! You are beyond hope ..."

Guy does nothing to defend himself, knowing it is pointless. Vaisey will not tolerate interruption and certainly not now that he has something so juicy to sink his teeth into.

"How does it feel that she's humiliated you again? and in front of all your peasants too! I bet that was wonderful having them look down at you... I'm sure they'll be taking a leaf out of her book and playing ill when you next collect their taxes!"

Francesca watches Guy in his misery, terrified that he is going to try and redeem himself by spilling the beans about Marian. He takes the verbal blows with practiced forbearance but she knows how they sting, how much Vaisey's opinion means to him and she's not so foolish as to assume that what she said earlier will change that.

"You seem to forget that as my Master of Arms, all that you do reflects on me, so I ask you: do I wish to appear weak? gullible? a soft touch? a bleeding heart? A clue: **no! **I have a reputation to uphold and that means that I cannot tolerate your blundering any more. So tomorrow morning you will go into the woods where we last saw Hood and his men and you will burn every bush, every tree, every leaf... I don't care if you have to burn down the whole forest and **you won't come back until you have them**."


	59. Chapter 59

LIX

Dinner was a subdued affair.

On the one side, there were three upset patriarchs stewing over the disappointments of the day, on the other, two chastised 'children' wishing they could be anywhere else.

Needless to say, the wine was flowing freely.

Winchester had brought his own, for he declared Vaisey's stuff undrinkable, Guy secretly agreed with him, but that didn't stop him from drinking it, especially on days like this where he needed all the help he could get.

Despite Winchester's complaining, Vaisey had no intention of serving a better vintage, he freely admitted he had no palate for wine and was loath to waste the good stuff on present company.

It was as the servants were clearing the table and Vaisey called for more, that Smythe made an appearance.

Winchester had recently recruited him to improve security at the castle and in that endeavour he'd been successful, but unfortunately not when it counted - the outlaws had still found a way through.

Vaisey was deeply unhappy about this. Smythe had hoped that alcohol would take the edge of his ire and that's why he'd chosen this moment to turn up - alas, the sheriff was as prickly as ever.

Winchester on the other hand, was a more pleasant drunk. But only by a fraction.

The yelling started pretty much as soon as Smythe entered the room and he pulled up a chair next to Francesca and Guy, having correctly deduced where the 'naughty kids' should sit.

Francesca took the opportunity to observe him and found that he took the reprimands well. He was obviously used to dealing with difficult people because he was smart enough to spare the excuses and quick to offer the next course of action.   
His suggestion to search the villages for Hood and his men went down well as it complemented Vaisey's scheme and blocked off that particular means of escape for the wanted men.

"Yes, it's an excellent idea; the outlaws won't know what's hit them, I'm sure." Winchester declared, gesturing to the newby to come sit beside him and for the servants to bring him some wine.

Francesca had to hand it to Smythe, as nondescript as he looked, he certainly had a way with her fiancé - he'd gone from being rebuked by him to drinking with him in less than five minutes.

Winchester announced they would convene to discuss the finer details after they'd finished at the table and Smythe nodded obediently. With this decided upon, the heavy mood lifted and all were happy to see the servants arrive with the drinks.

All except Smythe.

He was frowning.

Francesca watched him closely, baffled at his behaviour. She looked to the others to see if they'd noticed, but if they had, there was no sign of it.

What happened next was surreal.

Winchester was just about to take a sip of his wine - had the goblet a hair's breadth from his lips - when for reasons unknown, Smythe batted it out of his hand.

The nobleman cursed loudly as wine splashed everywhere, streaming off the table's edge and flowing into his lap. He jolted backwards and screamed at his newest recruit, gesturing furiously to his soiled attire. Smythe apologised profusely whilst offering his handkerchief and with it one of the lamest excuses imaginable;

"The goblet is chipped."

'_Chipped! It's made of metal!_' is what Vaisey would've said were it not for the fact that he was completely dumbfounded.

This was out of character. Normally, he'd have been the first to comment on Smythe's strange behaviour and mock his absurd explanation, but no, he merely sat there, stiff as a board, eyes fixed upon the wine stain, utterly aghast.

Francesca was more surprised about this than what Smythe had done because she had never seen Vaisey so dismayed: indeed, it was as if someone had squashed one of his birds right under his nose.

Guy had also noticed the strange response from Vaisey. At first he'd been as surprised as anyone at Smythe's behaviour, but then as he took in his master's reaction, she could see the minute changes in his expression as the cogs turned in his mind. Eventually he brought his gaze to her and she was shocked to find a look of sadness and utter defeat.

_What on earth...?_

For the life of her, Francesca could not think what had happened here to warrant such a reaction. That Winchester was kicking up a fuss, she could understand. That he stormed out of the room to go change, as well. That Smythe followed, offering apologies and effusions of regret was par for the course and that her father followed shortly after in his usual obsequious manner was no surprise either.

But what was this?

Her gaze darted between Guy and Vaisey and they were both so crestfallen, it was as if someone had died.

_What is wrong with them? It was just some wine..._

She watched Guy closely, wishing she could go sit beside him. She knew he'd had a hell of a day, the disastrous wedding, culminating in the revelation that Marian was the Nightwatchman would've been enough to drive any man to despair, but as she looked at him now, she could not help but feel that something else had happened here, something she had missed or was not privy to for he had never looked more despondent.

She had no time to dwell upon this however, for Vaisey abruptly pulled himself up from his seat, the chair legs scraping jarringly over the dining room floor. She kept her head down – sensing the foulness of his mood and made sure not to look at him as he growled at the servants to clean up the mess and reminded Gisborne of his duties the following day before turning sharply on his heels to leave.

She was about to ask what that was all about, but Guy dismissed her with a shake of the head. He looks completely wrung out, so she takes pity on him and leaves her question unsaid.

She rises from her seat and is about to leave when he brings his eyes to hers in a sorrowful gaze and she wishes she could lighten the burden somehow. There is a way, though she is not sure if it's a kindness to speak of it because although it is something good, he may not wish to think of it on top of whatever new worries he has currently plaguing him.

"Mary is taking good care of her."

She doesn't have to say who for there can only be one 'her'. "She says she will live."

His reaction is a stoney gaze and a curt nod.

"I err... I just thought you should know." She adds nervously and then turns to go. She's only gone a couple of steps when she hears him say,

"She is dead to me now. Do you understand?"

She turns and nods, meeting his cool anger with a sheepish grimace.

"She does not exist." He continues icily, "That I have to lie for her is one thing, but deal with her I will not."

Francesca swallows tightly and nods to signal that she understands him.

"She would do well to steer clear of me. I have a temper and doubt I'll be able to keep it in check should I see her."

She nods one last time and then quietly stalks out of the room lest she displease him further.

* * *

Life has a way of surprising you.

Just when you think you're over the worst, you're not.

_Not even close_.

After bolting from the church that morning, Guy had not had the stomach to go to Nottingham.

The main reason for this was because he feared that Vaisey would only have to look at him to know what he'd done. He'd never had the talent to lie to him and though the sheriff would doubtless have other things on his mind, (the outcome of 'King Richard's' trip to Nottingham for example), the conversation would've come round to the wedding and he didn't trust himself not to blurt out Marian's secret at the first mention of her.

There was a snide part of him that longed to take revenge on his almost bride by delivering her to the sheriff. He thought about what Francesca said and knew it to be true but the betrayal cut so deep, had he not taken the time to collect himself, he doubtless would've spilled the beans at the first opportunity.

Instead, he went to Gisborne.

He sat in the long grass where his house once stood and let the disappointment settle upon him.

He had pictured her here. Had pictured their life here, in their house, with their children...

and wasn't that a joke now?

There would be no wife. There would be no children. There would be no house.

But then maybe there never would've been.

As his mind travelled on to what might have been, he realised that he most likely would've discovered her secret anyway for how could she have concealed her injury in the marriage bed? And what would he have done without Francesca to bring him from the brink? A shiver passes through him as he thinks he might have murdered Marian in his rage. He was certainly capable of it. His behaviour had very nearly spelled her death as it was, but what if he'd found out later rather than sooner? He would've been bound to her and he dreaded to think what he might've done had he found out further down the line.

To look at it from that perspective, one could say he'd had a narrow miss. The thought should've brought him relief but it didn't for although the worst had been avoided, the shock and pain of her betrayal still affected him greatly.

Yet again the life he'd dreamt of had slipped through his fingers and he was helpless to do anything about it.

It was whilst grappling with this disappointment that the next arrived and if Marian's revelation had left him reeling then this very nearly finished him off.

The idea had been simple: enough poison to make Winchester ill and the rest to finish him off in his sick bed. What could go wrong? Well, as per usual, everything.

Whatever had made Smythe suspicious, Guy could not say for his head had been so full of other concerns he hadn't been paying attention. All he'd been able to register was Vaisey's reaction and that had been all he needed.

Winchester will live.

Not only that, he will take Nottingham and with it that which would hurt Guy the most...

_Francesca._

She would not be spared.

They had failed her.

Guy sat in the dining hall alone, trying to get to grips with this new disaster. His sorrow for his own sorry fate he could just about handle, but knowing what awaited her...

He recalled her look of concern just before she left the dining hall and it occurred to him that although she had every reason to be miserable at the hand life had dealt her, she could still find it in her to care for others and be of consolation where she could...

_You are so brave, little mouse... _

_and so good..._

He thought of all she'd been through in Nottingham, all he had put her through (God knows how he's tried her) and yet she still sought to help him with the burden of his strife... she still looked at him in that way...

Shame came then, as it so often did - shame that he could not manage his disappointments with the same fortitude. It was true what she said about being 'that girl' - she was her and so much more - he would once have thought her weak for her quiet forbearance, but now he knows she is strong, for she has not let adversity crush her or make her bitter.

Now he wishes he could do something for her, little realising that in the very act of feeling this way, he's already come along in leaps and bounds.

For who would've thought that on this most disastrous day, Sir Guy of Gisborne could be troubled for another?

* * *

Robin of Locksley was not often so overwhelmed by his feelings that he's in tears.

Once again, it is Marian who's responsible for it.

He'd arrived at Knighton, thinking he would sneak in through the window and surprise her in her bedchamber before congratulating her on her excellent job of fooling Gisborne with her 'bout of nerves'.

At the first sight of her, so pale and weak in her bed, he knew this was no acting.

In the parlour downstairs, the serious expressions of Sir Edward, Thornton (_What is he doing here?_) and Mary Lambert (_!?) _did little to put him at ease.

Mary was quick to tell him that Marian was going to pull through which begged the question "pull through what?'"

Thornton took it upon himself to tell him what had happened. Sir Edward's expression was ashen throughout, but then as Thornton got to the part about how Gisborne opened the door and let Mary inside, he began to weep.

The first telling had been hard enough, but he was still so upset that his daughter had nearly died and so relieved that she lived, he could not help it.

Robin for his part, was speechless.

_Gisborne let her live? _

_He let Mary heal her?_

That he locked the door in the first place was not unexpected - having discovered that she was the Nightwatchman it was no surprise that he would lash out at her but that he relented...

"It was Francesca. I don't think he would've done it if it wasn't for her." Thornton said and a small sob came from Sir Edward now, overwhelmed by feelings of gratitude to this girl he hardly knew who had talked Sir Guy into letting his daughter live.

Thornton smiled wanly at Robin and the outlaw could see he was exhausted. It was no wonder after the day he'd had since he'd been taking care of Marian ever since she collapsed – assisting Francesca and then Mary, organising her journey home, comforting Sir Edward and now the other most important man in Marian's life.

Robin was still so out of it, he couldn't speak to thank him or Mary for all they'd done – a small nod whilst fighting back tears was the best he could do and thankfully, they understood. Mary mentioned how she'd put Marian under sedation to keep her from any 'further adventures' and Robin nodded to signal he'd registered her words but seconds later could scarcely remember any of it.

The walk up to Marian's chamber passed in a daze. He was practically sleepwalking to her bedside.

Then, as he lay down beside her on the bed and placed his lips upon her cheek, the tears came.


	60. Chapter 60

LX

"Thought I might find you here."

Guy's voice echoes softly through the stables and makes Francesca gasp.

After the angry words exchanged this morning and his distant manner at dinner this evening, she had not thought he would want to speak to her again, let alone in such warm tones and the relief she feels is so overwhelming, she needs a moment to steady herself before she turns to face him.

"Yes, well, you know me…"

"I do."

Fond smiles at this, but neither is so brave as to chance a look at the other. The storm may have passed, but they remain wary, and Francesca turns back to the horse she is grooming, struggling with warring emotions.

An awkward silence follows as they avoid the elephant in the room, both with much to say on the subject of the disastrous wedding, but neither wishing to be the first to touch upon it lest the fragile peace shatter. It can't be avoided though, for it is the reason Guy sought her out - a million apologies his lips, but paralysed by the fear that with his violent reaction to Marian's betrayal, he's pushed her too far this time.

She should hate him. Detest him with a vengeance. He has shown her (yet again) how much of a monster he can be and yet she neither loathes nor shuns him - it is beyond his comprehension. He has not forgotten what she said to him as Marian lay dying nor does he doubt her sincerity, but somehow he still can't quite bring himself to believe that after all he has done, she does not give up on him.

"I sometimes think it would be better to be a horse."

This comment comes so completely out of the left field, Guy doesn't know what to do with it. He was already floored that he'd got this far without her ignoring or rejecting him and now she was chatting amiably as if nothing had happened.

"No parties to attend, no strict etiquette and social mores to follow, no expectations to fulfil…" she continues, scrunching her face in disgust and Guy jumps in with both feet before he can overthink it,

"No weddings…" he quips and is rewarded with a shy grin from her that he thinks he will most likely treasure all his remaining days.

"No, none of that, only the quiet life for this most noble of creatures: days of honest work followed by peaceful evenings in the stall, content so long as one is warm and well fed." She smiles at the horse as she gently runs the brush over the docile animal.

"Do you think if I pray hard enough God will turn me into one?" She asks playfully and the wish is so bittersweet he can hardly stand it.

"It wouldn't hurt to try…" He whispers, his voice so low she has to strain to hear it, "and whilst you're at it you could ask him to do the same for me."

They both smile at this and trade sighs, letting their minds paint a picture of how good it would be.

Guy cannot help it, he has to look at her now and if she'd already broken his heart with her prayer, the next question does him in completely;

"Would you still be my friend if we were horses?"

"Yes."

_With every fibre of my being: _ _yes_ _._

"I would like that." He whispers.

"Yes, it would be better for you I think – I couldn't tell you off as a horse."

"No you could not but I'm sure I would follow you anyway."

She is visibly moved by this. Cannot speak. Panic wells within her as she realises that the floodgates are about to open and she turns to hide from him, but he steps forward and takes her hands in his before falling to his knees before her in contrition.

"Francesca, I'm so sorry…"

She breaks down.

Unable to hold back. Sobs coming in painful bursts. Year upon year of pent up emotions erupting to the surface.

Again, she tries to turn away, but he holds fast, pulling her down into his arms.

She does not resist. She has every right to and he expects that she will but to his astonishment, she does not, instead she allows him to hold her, sinking into him as her misery reaches its crescendo, her tears drenching his collar, her fingers curling into the hem of his jacket.

They stay like this a long time, neither wishing to surface. Indeed, she burrows further into him and he folds her tighter against him, eyes closed, nose in her hair, body wanting nothing of the world that is not her. Her tears have stopped and their knees are beginning to ache but still they hold each other, no movement other than the ebb and flow of their breathing and the gentle press of his lips to her hair.

She pulls away and he lets her, but not so far that he cannot cradle her head in his hands, tilt her face up to him, and swipe at her tears with his thumbs. She resists at first, avoiding eye contact and pulling away, embarrassed by her tears, but he will have none of that because he needs to speak to her now, though he knows no words are good enough.

"You were with me, you know… all these years… I had only to think of you and… I could hear your voice… could _feel _you at my side…" His voice is low, but strangled and Francesca is transfixed – has never seen him like this before, struggling so hard with his words. He swallows to regain his voice, but when he does, it is even worse, trembling with emotion,

"and... I… I dreamt of you… so many times… how it would be to see you again… to hold you… and I wanted it _so _much…

_but never like this._"

His face creases up and Francesca's jaw has already long since dropped open but now the tears are flowing again because to see him like this is devastating. He swallows hard and raises his head, blinking back tears of his own, raising a shaky hand to wipe away her tears before choking out what he came to say,

"And I'm more sorry than I can say because you were right... about me, about the man I am and I... I wanted to be so much more… for you… but I couldn't… because I am weak." The air rushes out of him in a soundless sob and he is trying to continue but is choking on the words. She can't handle seeing him like this so she closes her eyes and in a calm voice takes over where he left off,

"And you thought that if you could regain your lands and begin again, you would be strong."

He moves from her as if she has burnt him. Eyes wide, mouth gaping. "You knew?"

She nods.

He is appalled. Anger comes next and hot on it's heels shame.

"Vaisey told you?"

"No. There are still people here who remember your family."

"Who?"

"Does it matter?"

Actually no. It doesn't. Not now. She knew and that was all there was to it.

"How long have you known?"

"Since yesterday."

He is speechless. A wave of shame hits him so hard that he is dizzy and he has to sit down before he falls. It is too much. His head hangs between his knees and he struggles to breathe. Francesca rushes to him and he flinches away.

"Guy please…" She slowly edges closer, hands up where he can see them, "Look at me…" He raises his head slowly and she takes it as signal to continue, "I meant every word I said earlier. Every word." She brings her hands forward to cradle his face just as he'd done with her and all he can do is gape.

"Your past changes nothing. I am not sorry to know it; it helps me understand…"

"But why… why would you want to? After all that I have done?"

"Because if God turned us into horses you would still be my friend... 

because you gave me something I never thought I'd ever have, and made me feel something I never thought I'd ever be so blessed to feel... 

because you once promised that if you could, you would try to make me happy for the rest of your life and I believe that had you'd been able to, you would have... 

because those words I wrote the day my father took me from you are as true as the day I wrote them..."

'because I love you' is what she'd been about to say but never got chance for his lips plucked the words from her mouth before she'd even spoken them.

There is a split second where both of them freeze.

He, because he is surprised at his own boldness and terrified that despite what she just said, he might be overstepping the mark... and she, because she wonders if this is a dream... how often had she closed her eyes to evoke the feeling of his lips upon her own only to have her father come barging in, yelling at her to quit daydreaming?

He kisses any and all doubt out of her mind.

Indeed, he kisses every coherent thought out of her mind.

A kiss after a four year interval could be a clumsy affair, but there is absolutely nothing clumsy about this one. In fact, it is sublime. As their lips happily greet one another and their mouths slot together perfectly, both groan in tandem - the kind of groan one lets out when one finally lays down to rest after a long hard day, or when something is so good one cannot help but make that certain noise without even realising it. This spurs him on and he gently pulls her into his lap, sighing happily when she melts into him, drunk on her already, becoming ever more aroused because he can feel her weight upon his thighs, taste her heavenly mouth and hear those exquisite moans when he tilts his head and they fit together just right...

"Francesca, Francesca, Francesca..." He whispers, his head bowed as if in prayer, in no church however, would they hold each other like this, nor would his lips pluck at hers, placing kisses so reverently.

His brow rests against hers and she can feel him shaking his head, see his lips curl into a smile, hear the rumble of a chuckle spreading through his chest.

"Vaisey would throw a fit if he knew..."

She is frowning and smiling at the same time, perplexed by his words, but lifted by his amused tone, the way his lips keep seeking hers, the intense way he regards her and the strange luminosity of him, seemingly come out of nowhere.

"All those years of lectures... all that time and effort spent trying to teach me... undone by a single kiss from you."

She raises an eyebrow in questioning and he smiles as if drunk before showing her exactly what he means by kissing her again.

"Be with me." He whispers against her lips.

"I am with you." She replies between kisses, a breathy laugh bubbling through her. He stills a moment, recalling a time he said those words to Marian and the outcome of that sorry attempt to seduce her, but then happily forgets any of that in favour of kissing Francesca's smiling mouth with passionate enthusiasm.

"Come with me." He murmurs, pulling back to look her in the eye, sighing contentedly as he rakes his gaze over her kiss swollen lips.

"Where would we go?" She asks curiously, not quite sure where he is going with this but playing along.

"Far from here… where nobody can stand between us."

She gasps. Hardly believing what he is suggesting. _He can't be serious, can he?_

The look on his face however, is deadly serious and she can't help but wonder if he realises what that would mean.

"But... this is your home."

He shakes his head. "I had hoped that it would be..." he sighs and hangs his head a moment before smiling sadly, "but Vaisey will always hold it over me... use it to keep me in his debt."

There is no 'I told you so' from her, only a tightening of her arms around him - an embrace in sympathy.

"It will probably not be his for much longer either if things continue the way they are going. I have not forgotten what you told me about Winchester."

Her face drops at the mention of her fiancé and Guy gently tilts her head up to have her look in his eyes.

"It is as you say it is - so long as I hold onto it, they will always have me in their pockets."

She nods sadly and he ghosts his thumb gently over her jaw.

"And so will it always be... unless......"

She doesn't get to hear the end of the sentence for he lets it go and kisses her softly instead, the heat of earlier gone, made way for gentle tenderness and they relax into it awhile before he finally pulls his lips from hers and clears his throat.

"Francesca..." He is nervous now and she wonders how that can be with her sitting in his lap like this, sharing sweet kisses, "What you said about the man you knew, about the man I was, together with you... I... I would like to try to be that man... for you... if you will have me."

She doesn't understand, that much is obvious so he takes a deep breath and dives in at the deep end,

"Francesca... I'm asking you to be my wife."


	61. Chapter 61

LXI

Imagine if you will, the day of the Gisborne wedding from the point of view of Father Thomas of Locksley.

It is a sunny day; there is a cheerful bustle at the church as villagers attend to last minute preparations, little by little, guests arrive, followed by the groom who, despite being a generally unpleasant sort of man, seems to be on good form today, albeit nervous. He takes his place at the altar and a short interval follows before the bride arrives, looking like an angel.

You are ready to begin with the ceremony when for some reason a guest holds everybody up by choosing that moment to enthusiastically congratulate the bride. It's irritating, yes, but you let it go because, well, some people are idiots and there's not much one can do about that.

Anyway, idiot makes an exit and you're assuming that all will proceed as planned when the bride collapses with a bout of nerves.

Little do you know that this is the starting point for one of the most bizarre days of your life.

The groom morphs into a tyrant, servants carry the unconscious bride behind the altar (!) and the guests leave in droves.

You hover a while, unsure as to what happens now, wondering if a sermon might be of help to anybody but upon observing the deeply unhappy demeanour of the groom decide it's probably best to go.

You inform Thornton of your intentions (you're too scared to go near Gisborne) and tell him that when they plan to proceed with the wedding you can be located at the vicarage.

You've just got home when there's a knock at the door. You open it expecting to find Sir Guy of Gisborne on your doorstep but no, it's the Earl of Huntingdon aka Robin Hood. You try to slam the door on him because let's face it, the last person you want to be caught speaking with when Sir Guy shows up is Nottingham's most notorious outlaw but the former master of Locksley is having none of it.

He demands you bring him up to speed on events so far and you happily oblige because you're hoping that will get rid of him.

No such luck.

Next thing you know, Robin and friend are rifling through your wardrobe, appropriating religious garments and demanding you take them on as "novices novices". You protest because it doesn't work that way, citing the usual procedure for joining the clergy but sadly they insist.

You question their motives for this sudden interest in God's work and are strangely relieved to discover that they have no long-term interest in serving the Lord; they merely wish to get past security in Nottingham. You wish them good luck with the outfits and try to push them out the door.

Nope. No joy here either.

Your assistance is required.

You ask that they find someone else as you have a previous engagement, i.e. the Gisborne wedding and they reveal that this is precisely why they chose you.

"There isn't going to be a wedding my friend, not if we have anything to do with it."

You try to inform them that they are operating against God's will but this has little effect upon them if the weapons pointed at your head are anything to go by.

So, with the discussion part over, you hitch your horse up to the cart (plus one saracen-style bow strapped beneath), and head in to Nottingham with your 'novices' on the pretext of almsgiving.

The place is swarming with guards and you break out in a cold sweat just thinking what might happen if any one of them smells a rat. Fortunately, it doesn't come to that: as priest, one is practically above suspicion and the guards are so good as to wave you through after a cursory greeting. Your 'helpers' keep their heads covered and down - it seems this isn't their first attempt to get in and therefore they're keen to keep a low profile.

Once through the gates, they let you go because they've urgent matters to attend to, but not before they've threatened you with dire consequences should you return to Locksley and conduct the marriage ceremony. The thing is though, there's dire consequences and there's _dire_ consequences. Yes, you're sure that whatever they might do to you (should you go back on your word) is suitably dire, but then again, you are positive that what Gisborne will do to you for not fulfilling your duty will be far worse.

As all hell breaks loose inside the castle, you waste no further time deliberating and use the distraction to get out of there.

The sight that greets you as you walk into the church upon your return makes you wish you hadn't bothered.

It's as if someone let a bull in. The place is totally trashed.

There's a young girl - a servant you recognise from Sir Guy's household sweeping up debris. She stops to regard you apologetically.

When you recover the ability to speak, your first question is "Is this because I wasn't there?"

Blank looks. Shrug.

"Did Sir Guy go looking for me?"

More of the same.

You feel you might cry. This is surely punishment for not being there. You run your eyes over the carnage that was your sacred chapel and become very afraid.

"You err… you wouldn't happen to know where he is at the moment?"

Unsurprisingly, she does not.

This is bad. You should have been here.

Your mind supplies you with countless horrific scenarios as to what will happen when Sir Guy finds you, followed by countless uncharitable thoughts about the outlaws.

_This is not my fault. I didn't want any of this. _

You sneak over to the vicarage, looking over your shoulder the entire time and lock yourself in the bedchamber. This works as a coping strategy for all of twenty minutes because you're hungry. You sprint into the kitchen, grab whatever leftovers are closest then lock yourself in again. The day continues much in this vein, darting in and out of rooms like some paranoid dervish until finally, you've exhausted yourself mentally and physically and you end up falling asleep.

You wake to the sound of knocking. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You hear murmurs from outside and then your worst fear becomes reality:

It's Sir Guy. Calling your name and hammering on the front door.

Not a peep comes out of you nor do you move a muscle. _Go away. I'm not here._

"Father Thomas, it's Thornton. We know you're there – your horse is nibbling my shoes…"

_Drat. _

_Should've hid him as well. Didn't think of that. _

_That beast is far too friendly. _

Friendly or not, the game is up. What do you do now? Apologise? Try to explain yourself?

_With Thornton there, it might not be so bad… _

A voice in your head begs to differ, but you ignore it because you know it's no use. You can't avoid the man forever. You have to face the music.

So it is with great reluctance that you drag yourself out of your self-imposed prison and open the front door.

The scene that greets you leaves you speechless.

Sir Guy is smiling.

Not only that, he has his arms around a girl.

A girl who is not Lady Marian.

No, no matter how you squint nor from whichever angle, she is most certainly not the woman Sir Guy was set to marry this morning. And you're not about to insult her, for in her own way she is just as lovely, especially as she laughs at the antics of your over-friendly steed (currently snuffling at the hem of her dress) and blushes as Sir Guy folds her tighter to his chest to 'rescue' her… but… well, she's just not what you were expecting that's all.

As the knight greets you with a nervous smile and apologises for the damage done to the church, you wonder if this is some sort of fever dream brought on by the stress you've been under, anticipating how he will murder you. You pinch yourself hard, but still he continues with expressing his regret and you very nearly fall over as he informs you of his intention to cover the cost of reparations.

You nod because that's all you're able to do.

Thornton smirks and loops an arm through yours. On your other side, Emily does the same. They commence walking down the garden path and linked as you are to them, you automatically follow.

"Oh, err… where are we off to then?"

Emily chuckles, "Why to the church of course!"

Thornton grins and nods to the happy couple, "We've got a wedding to attend."

* * *

As weddings go, it was certainly unusual.

Father Thomas looked appropriately shocked throughout. His expression pretty much summed it up for Thornton.

_In strange territory now… strange and new…_

No guests in attendance. No friends or family. Only the two servants as witnesses.

The church sparse and empty. Decorations gone. Broken furniture cleared out.

Just a man and a woman promising to love, honour and obey...

He looks at her as if she's saved his life and she looks at him as if he's hung the moon.

They are noticeably moved throughout the ceremony and their smiles as they seal their vows with a kiss are luminous.

For Thornton it was nothing short of a miracle.

_The second today._

After Sir Guy sparing Marian's life that is.

To say he'd felt relieved was an understatement. A certain wariness he felt towards his master however, made it difficult to believe that this was the end of the matter. Gisborne was not one to forget trespasses committed against him and Thornton feared he would take his revenge in some other way. Indeed, as Sir Guy had approached him at Locksley earlier that evening, he'd expected the worst.

How wonderful then, that his fears proved unfounded.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Sir Guy of Gisborne was turning the other cheek. One might say that he was letting his foes off the hook, but when one really thought about it, his marriage to Francesca and departure from Nottingham meant he was finally putting his past behind him and punishing those truly deserved it.

_There's no better revenge than living well is there?_

But would love heal all wounds? Thornton could not say. Love often comes from the selfish wish to not be alone or to have someone complete you. Does it hit the mark? Yes, but not always - one may still feel alone or incomplete with a lover.

Perhaps Sir Guy was on the right track though, with the wish for understanding. To desire is one thing, to crave, to want, to long for, but to understand? That was something deeper. Was true love not born of understanding? Could love survive without it? Was lack of understanding not the chief reason for loneliness? Are the lonely amongst us not merely misunderstood?

The truth is, we are all lonely to a certain degree, because no person can completely understand any other. As sad as it is, no one can see inside your mind, read your thoughts and feelings, or know one hundred percent how it is to be you - the best anyone can do is guess.

But is that not the beauty of life? The bittersweet beauty of being alive? That we try anyway? Is that not the greatest gift we can offer?

Francesca not only loved Guy, but was willing to try to understand him and that was worth more than anything anyone else had done for him.

And if that would not help them through whatever struggles they would face in their marriage then Thornton did not know what would.

* * *

Emily never thought she would be sorry to learn that Sir Guy was to leave them.

He'd been an unpleasant master there was no denying that - moody, troubled, discourteous, irascible, resentful, impatient, sarcastic, cruel... the list went on and on...

but...

he was none of those things in the last hours she spent in his service.

Well, one says service, but watching those two marry was a pleasure not a duty.

It had been a shock to learn of their plans, no doubt about that. As Thornton had told her Sir Guy and Lady Francesca were getting married, she'd thought he'd gotten the names mixed up. Imagine her surprise then, to find that no, Thornton was not mistaken, and yes, Sir Guy was not marrying his fiancée but one of his wedding guests. The wedding guest who'd had her fetch Mary Lambert to come take care of his fiancée no less.

One look at the couple had allayed any concerns she might have had at this abrupt change of plans however.

They were in love.

Not even the most oblivious of fools could've missed it.

And mere moments in Sir Guy's company were enough to see the change in him.

Back at Locksley, she had expected him to revert to old ways but no, not a bit of it - he spoke in grateful tones as he told her that he and Francesca were to leave in the morning and gave instructions to divide up his remaining effects amongst the servants before Vaisey got chance to clear the place out.

It was no great fortune, he would of course be needing funds for himself and Francesca, and one also had to bear in mind that he'd been robbed the other night, but it should hopefully tie them over until a new master is installed.

Failing that, they could "ask Lady Marian for help when she is recovered." His face darkened as he suggested this, but he checked himself before expanding upon why she was in a position to help and refrained from making sarcastic remarks concerning her benevolence. Emily understood. She was one of the few in the know and so she quickly steered the conversation to more neutral subjects.

One subject she pointedly avoided, however, was that of their future plans. This was not because she wasn't curious because she was, but the reason she did not ask was because she did not wish to betray their whereabouts should Vaisey put her through the mangle. It seemed that Thornton was thinking along the same lines since he didn't ask either.

Instead, they toasted to the happy couple and wished them all the best for the future.

It was then that it occurred to Emily that perhaps Francesca might be in need of a certain kind of discussion about... err... how should one put it... wifely duties.

She had mentioned earlier that her mother would've been proud to see her wed and that's how Emily knew that her mother had passed away, but had someone explained to her about what a man and a woman do on their wedding night?

As she steeled herself to ask the girl if she 'would like to take a walk with her in the garden', she followed the couple into the kitchen and was shocked to find them in a sensual clinch.

She backed off instantly.

_Scratch that. _

_They're going to be fine._


	62. Chapter 62

LXII

"Has Gisborne checked in?"

"No, he has not, and if you'd gone to the trouble of getting up earlier, you'd know that he isn't going to."

Vaisey froze. He'd not expected to find Winchester in his study in lieu of Gisborne's man. It put him off balance.

He quickly shrugged it off however, along with the cryptic comment and the criticism of his morning habits. "Ah Winchester, on good form today I see. Did you manage to get the wine stains out of your crotch?"

Winchester rolled his eyes, "I thank you for your concern regarding my attire, but I think you'll find you have more important matters to be concerned about."

'_Hmmm, the fact that you're not dead for one_' is what Vaisey was thinking as a re-run of yesterday evening's failed poisoning played through his mind. It was a disappointment that stung worse than any thorn in his side and a sleepless night of dwelling on the subject had done nothing to make him feel any better. He sighed dejectedly before bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.

"Are you going to get to the point?"

"All in good time my friend, but first you must bear with me as I tell you about the morning I've had..."

Vaisey regarded the lord with impatient weariness and as Winchester began to tell his tale, he wondered if it would really be so terrible to just strangle him here and now. Gisborne had often driven him to despair over the years, but at least he knew how to limit conversation to topics of relevance or keep his mouth shut altogether.

"…so as we noticed she was missed, we had to make enquiries."

This brought Vaisey out of his murderous thoughts immediately.

_Missed? She? She is missing? Wait..._

Vaisey's mind was quicker than Winchester's narrative and so he found himself in the surreal position of listening to him explain despite knowing exactly what was coming.

It didn't help with the shock though. Not one bit.

"...we found nothing at Locksley; no Gisborne, no servants... just a note for Cavendish..."

Vaisey slumped down in his seat and closed his eyes.

_He can't have..._

As the minutes passed and Winchester blathered on, the implications of this unexpected betrayal became clear and Vaisey's lips curled into a bitter grimace.

_Of course he has._

Somehow he'd always known.

All that hard work trying to keep him on side.

All those speeches about unity and loyalty.

All. Those. Years.

For nought.

_Better he had died._

_Which he most certainly will when I catch up with him..._

"Lord Cavendish and myself have organised a search party, though I am not sure what I will do once I find them - that he seduced her is bad enough, but marriage..."

Vaisey's eyes widened.

_Oh Gisborne, you never were one to do things by halves..._

Winchester's expression darkened considerably and his voice was tight with anger. How strange that for once in their lives, the two noblemen were united in a common cause: the desire to murder Gisborne. Neither of them saw it that way though. As Winchester wallowed in the bitterness that was the failure of his plan, Vaisey felt no sympathy for him. On the contrary, once he'd gotten over the initial sting of his lieutenant's betrayal, it was satisfying to think that in taking Francesca, Gisborne had at least scuppered Winchester's hopes - Prince John wouldn't want the girl now that Gisborne had been with her.

_And there will be no takeover here will there, now that you've lost your 'gift'?_

As Winchester's ire increased, so did Vaisey's amusement and that only stoked the flames of his fury. He'd always been a sore loser and had a severe lack of humour when it came to being mocked. Vaisey had always pushed those buttons, little knowing how dangerous it was to provoke him.

That was his fatal mistake. Just as it always had been.

The inability to quit whilst ahead.

There was enjoying others' misfortunes, there was mocking others' misfortunes and then there was going too far.

This is precisely how he found himself with a dagger in the chest.

It came out of nowhere

but then again, it didn't.

Had this showdown not been coming for years?

As the wave of horror hit, Vaisey realised that yes, it had, and he'd been so foolish as to walk right into it. It was a beginners mistake, he reflected bitterly, and one that he going to die for.

"Come, you cannot be shocked... you must of known I would not let your pathetic attempt to kill me go unpunished."

Winchester smiled smugly at the dying man before him, as if he'd known all along, but in truth, he'd been lucky - Smythe had picked up the slack in a moment of careless inattention on his part - had observed the servants bringing drinks in new goblets as opposed to pouring the wine into the ones already in use, had noticed one goblet was more ornate than the others...

Vaisey could think of none of this however, for the realisation that he was done for took hold. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heart jackhammered in his split open chest and the metallic taste of blood lay thick on his tongue.

In those last moments, he could've perhaps reflected on the futility of a life lived solely to satisfy one's ambitions. Year upon year of planning, scheming, contriving, conniving... Was it ever enough? Did one ever reach the pinnacle of one's hopes and dreams? Or was there always more to be had? Yes, it would've been sobering to realise that he had merely fooled himself as perfectly as he had Gisborne. He'd lived his life dreaming of a better tomorrow - had diligently kept his eye on the prize, little realising that the day would come when it was all for nothing, for what good was any of it when he was to end up as dead as the next man?  
One could perhaps argue that in striving for power he was looking to achieve immortality, i.e. to ensure that his name would live on in the annals of history – how galling would it have been for him then, if he could've discovered from beyond the grave, that his name would live on as a footnote in the story of Robin Hood?

Yes, he could perhaps have meditated on this and all manner of other subjects pertaining to his existence as his lifeblood drained away but then he never had been one for that sort of thing.

No, Lord Vaisey, Sheriff of Nottingham used the last moments of his life to stay true to form and dedicated his remaining strength to something entirely closer to his heart.

He let out a mighty laugh

and winced in pain as the vibrations spread through his chest.

Winchester was astonished. What on earth could be so funny when one is about to die?

This amused the stricken sheriff even more, so he beckoned his 'good friend' closer, enjoying the dumb look on his his face and once he was within reach, whispered in his ear:

"Good luck with finding another wife."

He accompanied the sentiment with a sadistic smile and a violent stab to Winchester's groin with a nearby quill.

* * *

"It is with great sadness that I must announce the death of the Sheriff of Nottingham..."

Lord Winchester made sure to put the appropriate amount of emotion into his speech to the people of Nottingham but if there was any pain he was feeling, it was due to the excruciating wound in his loins.

"He has been murdered by the one person he trusted the most: Sir Guy of Gisborne."

Loud gasps of shock. Incredulous looks. Murmurs of disbelief.

It was a stretch of the imagination Winchester had to admit, but why not kill two birds with one stone? He needed to a scapegoat for Vaisey's murder and he wanted to punish Gisborne; it made sense to tie the two together and as the new sheriff, who would contradict him?

Cavendish was standing at his side as he made it known there was a generous reward for whoever could locate and capture the fugitive, but was frowning because this new development did not sit well with him at all. As apoplectic as he'd been to discover that his daughter had married Gisborne and absconded, this announcement from Winchester rocked him to the core. He'd only just come to terms with the fact that the knight was now his son-in-law but to have everybody think he killed Vaisey!? An inferior marriage in the family, Cavendish could live with, but to have the family name besmirched by connections to a murderer?

Winchester had gone too far now. Had obviously lost his mind. It was bad enough that in a fit of temper, he'd killed his rival but to pin the crime on another?

As his so-called friend appointed himself sheriff, Cavendish swayed with dizziness. What had he done, inviting this man into his family?

* * *

"Did you see 'im here this mornin'?"

"No, I did not."

"This stinks to high heaven."

"You're not wrong there."

"There's no way he's dunnit."

"What do you reckon Steve?"

"Nah. I don't believe a word of it."

Having watched the new sheriff depart Nottingham with Smythe and a troop of Prince John's men, Sir Guy of Gisborne's most faithful men convened in private to discuss the accusations made against their former master.

"He's too loyal for that. I mean, you don't work yer whole life fer someone just to go murder 'em on a whim do ya?"

"Well, no, but..."

"What are yer sayin' Dave?"

"Every man his limits..."

"Shit, I would've murdered the bastard years ago."

All murmur in agreement.

"So you reckon he flipped then?"

"Well, he does have a temper..."

"Vaisey was taunting him last night about the wedding..."

The door opens and the men tense up but relax as they see it's only a latecoming colleague. He is smiling the smile of a man in the know...

"Yer never gonna guess what I heard..." He pauses for effect, enjoying every second of it, "Gisborne took off with Lady Francesca first thing this morning."

"Who told you that Nigel?"

"A mate of mine from Locksley; said the servants cleared Gisborne's place out and made 'emselves scarce... There's talk he's married her..."

"Well, that would explain why 'er father's got a face like a smacked arse."

Chuckles all round.

"Well, that's a turn up for the books..."

"Aye, you've gotta hand it to the fella, that's one way of dealin' with a failed weddin' innit!?"

Loud laughter, an 'I tip my hat to thee Sir' gesture, and a salute are the responses to this remark.

"Yeh but... is it not a bit sudden? I mean d'yer reckon the girl were up for it?"

"Oh, she were up for it alright, don't tell me you didn't see the way them two turtle doves were always lookin' at each other..."

"You're gonna say you knew all along aren't ya?"

"Well, now that you mention it..."

Raucous laughter.

"Did no one see her slip off wi' him?"

"What happened to her guards?"

"Not seen hide nor hair of 'em. Reckon Gisborne woulda paid 'em off – he'd bunkered a bit of cash y'know... I know he got robbed at Locksley but he'd got some 'ere an' all, he weren't so daft as to put all his eggs in one basket."

"Always told me he were lookin' to start a family..."

Solemn looks now. It went without saying that nothing would come of that, should he be caught.

"So if he left first thing this morning, who killed Vaisey?"

"Damned if I know."

"You got an hour or two? I'll write you a list of suspects."

"Winchester of course."

"You reckon?"

"Who else?"

"He has profited the most from his death..."

"Hmmm and it seems he's only just started, I asked Smythe where they were going and he said they were off to burn down the forest."

"Ah christ, that's rough, I mean I've got no love for outlaws but..."

"You can be thankful Sir Guy did a runner then, otherwise we'd have been doing that – Vaisey dropped that one on 'im last night."

Grimaces. Sighs of relief.

"So what do we do now?"

"I dunno, I mean I don't much fancy workin' for t'other fella but I've got mouths to feed y'know?"

"Well, here's a thought, how about we stick around and see what we can find out? I mean someone must know what went on."

"I agree. This is all wrong, I mean, he was no angel but he's always done right by me and if they end up hanging him for this..."

It was decided then. The truth would out.

They were going to make sure of it.


	63. Chapter 63

LXIII

"Today is the day."

Two men.

One mantra.

Winchester said it, but Smythe could not help but smile as he heard it.

"Today is the day I settle all old scores."

They were deep in the forest now, Smythe had gotten the last known location of the outlaws from Gisborne's men and had mobilized the guards directly. They'd waited for Winchester to finish addressing the people of Nottingham before departing for enemy territory.

They were not making good time.

The reason for this lay with Winchester. Or to be more specific, the frequent stops their leader had to make along the way. When it came to determination and grit, the elder man could not be faulted, were it not for his err... physical shortcomings. Smythe had noticed straight away that he was injured and asked him about it, but a peculiar vanity on the lord's part meant that instead of answers, all he received were curt orders to drop the subject. Smythe did as he was told, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the more Winchester hobbled and winced, cursing under his breath and adjusting his breeches.

"Perhaps we should postpone."

"No. There will be no delay."

"But you are hardly in any state to..."

"No! I am fine!"

"Clearly, you are not."

"I will not have that man deny me my due. I am going to be here to watch when the rats come scurrying out of their hidey-holes and nothing will stand in my way. Do you understand?"

Smythe nodded and pressed the subject no further. This remark was merely the confirmation of that which he'd suspected. He'd planted a seed in saving Winchester's life and this was what it had grown into. Revenge was nothing if not predictable.

He bowed to his master before commanding the men to search the cave. The entrance was well hidden which caused confusion in the ranks, but Smythe patiently showed the way (another tip courtesy of Gisborne's men, who'd come to learn of it during their most recent standoff against the outlaws). He'd found it whilst scouting up ahead during one of the breaks, before returning to the sheriff, who was leaning against a tree and fumbling with his crotch in a very un-sheriff-like manner.

"You should ready yourself. If they are hiding here, it will not be long before the men flush them out." Smythe advised and Winchester nodded in agreement, gritting his teeth and wincing as he took position a few metres from the mouth of the cave. Smythe continued his circuit of the surrounding terrain, listening intently for any disturbance.

"Today is the day" Winchester whispered once more...

and sank to his knees.

*

The arrow had hit him clean in the shoulder.

Silent.

Swift.

The first he'd known of it was the white hot sensation as it pierced his flesh.

"**Outlaws!**"

It was Smythe yelling, but Winchester hardly registered it as another arrow joined the first, this time in his chest, jolting his body backwards. His shield dropped to the floor with not a scratch on it and had he been able to think, he would've quickly realised his fatal mistake: he'd held it too low - unconsciously protecting the most vulnerable part of him, i.e. the part that had been wounded that morning. Had he possessed a sense of humour and been lucid enough to call upon it, he might have found it amusing that his earlier injury was no longer a problem by this point. As it was, he was having a job doing anything other than palpitating and breathing. Indeed, he was lucky to be upright - his position on his knees was the only reason for this, otherwise he would've long since collapsed.

After what seemed like an eternity but was actually a matter of moments, Smythe was with him and even though he was now at the stage of drowning in his own panic, the small part of him that belonged to his instinct recognized that something was very wrong with this picture. For one, he was still alive. Shouldn't he be dead if the outlaws were here? Shouldn't it be raining arrows upon them right now? Smythe was kneeling in front of him with his back to the enemy and yet no arrows came: how could this be? And why was he looking at him like that? Staring at his wounds in twisted fascination...

and err... why was he reaching to grip the shaft of the arrow...?!

The guards bundled out of the cave to the sound of screaming. The sight of their leader speared by arrows quickly explained that one. Smythe advised them to run and take cover and they didn't need telling twice. One of their ranks offered to help with Winchester but Smythe insisted on taking care of their commander himself, so all they could do was watch impotently as he dragged the wounded man to more secluded terrain. The screams coming from their chief as he was moved, set even the hardiest soul's teeth on edge, but Smythe directed them to stay clear and keep watch unless they wished to experience personally what Winchester was currently going through.

After that, all was eerily quiet, other than a faint whispering from their second-in-command as he tended to a hopeless Winchester. They knew not what he said, for he kept his voice low, but their mind supplied the blanks, little knowing how far off their brains actually were.

"I had such plans for you, you know..." Smythe began, a strange smile and a faraway look on his face, "for Vaisey as well..." the younger man sighed and then wrapped his fingers around the shaft of the arrow pulling Winchester closer, ignoring his screams and convulsions of pain. "Yes, my lord, you will think this painful, but it is nothing compared to what I wanted to do to you..." Winchester was trying to speak now, to beg him to stop but Smythe continued in the sweetest of tones, despite the darkness of his words,

"Had I gotten my way, you'd have begged me to send you to hell, both of you."

Winchester was lost.

Had never been so lost in his life.

Lost to wrenching, agonizing, excruciating pain... lost to paralysing shock... lost to the horrific realisation that he was about to die...

lost as to what was going on...

"You seem confused my lord," Smythe whispered, and despite the pain, Winchester found it in him to nod, for this remark would win understatement of the year if there was such a thing. "Yes, I suppose it is confusing isn't it? To be saved by a man one day only to be murdered by him the next..." Smythe paused and tilted his head, studying Winchester to see if his words were getting through, "But it had to be me you know? It had to be my hand. I couldn't let Vaisey do it..." He sighed, now thinking of the other man, "That was not how it was meant to be."

Winchester was blinking confusedly, his head lolling like a puppet on a string and Smythe gripped hard at the nape of his neck to make sure he could only look at him.

"What are you thinking? Is your brain working at all? Have you realised that I am the one who did this..." another tug on the shaft of the arrow, another scream, "Or are you still wondering where the outlaws are?"

Smythe's lips curl in amusement as he studies his victim intently, gorging himself on the all encompassing shock coming off the other man in waves.

Of course, he hadn't seen it coming - his sort never did - they assume they can always swing things their way because they've always been able to. A sense of superiority and entitlement can bring you far in life – how shocking must it be then, to learn that one is not invincible?

He'd thought that this was his day. Had prided himself on having dealt with Vaisey. Puffing himself up like some righteous avenger and coasting on a wave of determination: this was going to happen because he willed it to be so.

And perhaps it might have been...

were it not for life.

Life does not bend to commands. Nor is it in the habit of granting wishes. You can do your checks and balances, but don't go thinking that it makes any difference. Life owes you nothing ladies and gentlemen, and you can believe with all your heart whichever mantra you choose, but be assured, the universe carries on regardless.

And so it was now, as Smythe pulled Winchester close, insensitive to the sounds of his agony.

"Today is the day you settle old scores hmm? But what if old scores wish to settle you? Did you ever think about that? About the things you have done? The people you have wronged? The damage caused by your scheming and manipulating? You triumph over Vaisey's death, little knowing that you and he are the same and therefore the conclusion of your life can only be the same..." Smythe had loosened his grip on the arrow to keep the man lucid enough to hear his words, but the tension was increasing now in increments and Winchester trembles in fear, for he knows this is it: death is close – tightening it's grip, spreading through his chest, staring him in the face, whispering in his ear...

"This is for Willy."


	64. Chapter 64

LXIV

Marian wakes with a jolt.

"Guy?"

There's a sharp intake of breath to her left.

"Ooooo don't call me that – a man's got feelings you know."

_Robin!_

Warm feelings of relief flood through her but then as she realises she is in her bedchamber (and therefore so is he), the cold sweat she'd felt upon waking returns with a vengeance.

"What are you doing here? He'll kill you!"

The outlaw laughs long and loud, boldly moving to lay next to her, kissing her with smiling lips. She goes to shove him off; terrified of them being discovered like this, but he catches her hands and places them on his shoulders before moving in to press his lips to hers once more.

"No my love, he won't be killing anybody around here anymore, least of all me."

His eyes twinkle with mischief.

Her eyes narrow in suspicion.

"What are you talking about?"

"He's gone." Huge grin. "Up and left."

She clearly cannot believe it and it is with great relish that he delivers the next bit of news.

"Took his wife with him."

_Wife!?_

"He didn't waste any time your former fiancé, I'll give him that."

"**Wife!?**"

"It's true; Lady Francesca no less. Heard it from Thornton and he should know, he attended the wedding." He pauses to let her digest this, but is having too much fun with this to leave it long. "She was not only so good as to save your life, but also so kind as to take Gisborne off your hands in the bargain." He grins so large it must ache and Marian simply cannot believe it, won't allow herself for it surely cannot be possible.

"She saved my life?"

"He found out why you collapsed. Was ready to let you bleed out..." Robin's jaw sets in anger at the very thought but then softens, "She talked him out of it. He let Mary Lambert see to you."

"But surely he's told the Sheriff!" Marian panics. This is exactly what she feared upon collapsing – that Guy would find her out and seal her fate. That she lived showed he could be merciful, but how far would his mercy extend?

_There is no way he would have kept it from Vaisey._

She moves to get out of bed, but Robin holds her down, worried that she will burst her stitches again.

"I must go to father..." she protests, but he shakes his head and holds firm.

"Shh... calm down..."

She continues to struggle, resistant to his attempts to soothe and Robin now understands why Mary had kept her sedated so long.

"Please Marian..."

Something about the way he is looking at her makes her stop wriggling and take notice.

"What is it?"

He is repressing a smile. He needs to go slow on this one. It's going to be a hell of a lot to take in.

"You can't go to your father right now because he's at the castle."

"Oh no! What does Vaisey want with him? Oh God, it's because of me isn't it? They know!"

A whole new round of struggling begins and Robin entreats her to listen.

"He had to go to the castle because he is needed there as sheriff."

"What!?"

Robin bites back a grin at her understandable confusion and wants so much to place a kiss on that sweet befuddled face, but refrains because he knows it wouldn't go down well right now.

"Needed as sheriff? I don't understand. Vaisey would never..."

"Vaisey is dead."

Time stops for Marian. She has never been so stunned in her life.

"Winchester made the announcement this morning. Seems that your former flame did the honours."

"Guy!?"

Was it possible to be even more shocked?

"Guy murdered Vaisey?"

_That can't be possible._

"According to Winchester he did."

Marian is about to protest, but Robin knows what she's thinking and interrupts, "Thornton, however, says otherwise - he watched Gisborne and Francesca leave Locksley at first light this morning."

"Then who...?"

"We don't know. That is why your father has gone to the castle."

"Yes, but why would they need him? I thought Winchester was in charge."

For all his effort, Robin can't help but grin now. "He was but err... that was until somebody murdered him in the forest."

Marian's mouth drops open. She's not sure her brain can take any more of this. She tries to speak several times but nothing happens.

How can one grasp such irrevocable change as this? One simply cannot.

Robin watches as the full spectrum of emotions unfold, keeping silent to let her process all he has said, but at some point he has to tell her that it's not all good news.

"He was killed by arrows. The guards said they were attacked by outlaws. That's a lie because we had nothing to do with it. Sir Edward knows this because we've been here with you. Still, you can see how it looks..."

Marian gives him a sad smile, but speaks in warm tones, "Father will clear this up. He knows you are innocent and will not be swayed by any who claims otherwise."

"That's just what I told him." The words come from Much as he enters the bedchamber, giving a gentle nudge to Robin's shoulder in passing and handing a tray of food to the invalid. Marian smiles warmly at the new arrival.

"What's for dinner Much? Is it your famous squirrel kebab?" Robin quips.

"You know one day you'll remember my cooking fondly." Much counters and they both trade smiles because they know it's true.

"Yeah, give it a few years though."

* * *

Guy woke with a groan.

This was nothing unusual for although he was an early riser by habit, he did not enjoy getting up. As so often, his first thoughts were of whatever odious task Vaisey had set for the day and he clenched his eyes shut, bringing both palms up to his face.

He feels delicate fingers pulling his hands away, followed by the gentle press of lips upon his mouth.

It all comes back to him then: he isn't in Nottingham, there aren't going to be any odious tasks, Vaisey is miles away and the only person he is answerable to, is his wife.

A wave of happiness flows through him, the likes of which he hasn't felt since childhood. He scoops Francesca into his arms and kisses her passionately.

"And a very good morning to you too," she whispers and kisses him back with equal fervour. He sighs happily, squeezing her tighter into his embrace, pausing only to regard her with the expression of a man who can't quite believe his luck.

_Could this be real?_

The slide of his fingers over her bare skin certainly feels real. As do the long tresses of her hair gloriously strewn over his chest. Her weight, warmth, intoxicating scent so intimately mingled with his own all feel so wonderfully real, but he thinks he might still need convincing...

He kisses her ardently and encouraged by the exquisite sounds she's making, rolls her beneath him with every intention of making love to her, which he certainly would, were it not for the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

„T'is the landlord I think; you asked him to wake us early..."

He groans. Yes, he did. They need to put more miles between them and Nottingham but lying like this so heavenly entwined, he's coming to regret that decision.

She chuckles, knowing exactly what he's thinking, her fingers caressing the fine hairs at the nape of his neck and he's having no trouble letting her convince him to have his way with her, when he hears a knock on the door and knows it isn't to be.

He sighs and lets the man know they're awake before placing a reverent kiss upon Francesca's nose and wrenching his body up and off the bed.

She pretends to busy herself with covering her modesty, but the blush on her cheeks tells him all he needs to know about what she thinks of his nakedness and he finds her shyness so adorable, it takes nothing but the strongest willpower to keep him from getting back into bed and finishing what he started. As it is, he merely wills a certain part of his body to behave because the last thing he needs is to be pitching a tent in his leathers. He then recalls that he'd had exactly the same problem at Locksley yesterday morning and that's why he'd abandoned his usual outfit in favour of something more suitable to travelling incognito.

She gets up to dress now; a vision wrapped up in the bedsheets and he chuckles, thinking he'd like nothing more than to keep her this way - throw her up on his horse and ride off with her like this - all mussed up from their loving.

Alas, it will not do and he sighs as more and more of her skin is covered, the deepest sigh reserved for when she covers her hair and it's whilst he's slinking up behind her, pressing kisses to her neck and fiddling with this most obvious sign of her becoming his wife that he hears the clatter of plates downstairs.

"Time to face the rest of the world." He whispers, taking her hand and leading her to the dining room.

* * *

"Heavens above Irene, what is the matter?"

Joanie Braithwaite was busy serving guests breakfast when her colleague Irene Ramsbottom burst into the room.

"Has Jack been in?"

Joanie shook her head. No, she hadn't seen Irene's husband.

"No, he's not been here. I thought he was working in Nottingham. Didn't you tell me he was?"

"He was, but I figured he'd have gotten out of there sharpish what with all the hullabaloo..."

Joanie frowned and not that she noticed, but the two guests she was currently serving were eavesdropping most anxiously.

"Has the sheriff been hanging folks again?"

"No, and he won't be, cos he's dead."

Silence.

Not even the sound of breathing.

Joanie directs a deeply sceptical look at her colleague, thinking she must be pulling her leg. Irene is quick to put her straight though,

"Hey come on now, I wouldn't joke about a thing like that, even if the bleeder did have it coming - no, one of the traders told me the new sheriff made an announcement yesterday morning."

Joanie looked to her guests and it was obvious that this was news to them too for both froze mid chew - which looked quite comical, but then the girl brings her hand up to her beloved's wrist to comfort him, which is just as well because the colour has drained from his face.

"Are you two headed that way?" Joanie asked, alarmed by his reaction in particular.

"No, we are headed west... but we have friends in Nottingham and are naturally concerned." Francesca replied smoothly, amazed that she could speak at all, so shocked was she.

"As you should be my dear, there's a killer on the loose and he didn't stop with the old sheriff, he's murdered the new one an' all." Irene replied.

Francesca nearly knocked her goblet over.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Aye, Vaisey's barely cold in his grave an' now Colchester's been found slain in the forest!"

Husband and wife exchange puzzled looks.

"Not Colchester, Irene: Winchester." Joanie corrected, she'd heard the name often enough lately from Nottingham visitors - most of them grumbling about the strict security measures.

"Aye, that's the fellow. Took an arrow to the chest. Sounds like outlaws to me, but seems the deputy's dunnit: they can't find him anywhere."

* * *

"What would we do without my handkerchiefs eh?"

Francesca tries to lighten the mood a little as she binds Guy's hand, "and it had been healing so well..."

Guy is in another world and has been since he discovered that he's apparently murdered Vaisey and Winchester. The news shook him so hard, that once again, he's managed to cut himself – this time with an eating knife. He can count himself lucky that it's just a cut; he could've easily lopped off a finger.

"I fear they will hang me for this." He says when he's finally able to speak.

"Please Guy, do not say such things."

"You must prepare yourself."

"No, I shall not, for they will not - you did not murder the sheriff nor Winchester."

"My guilt is a foregone conclusion in Nottingham. I doubt they will let something so inconvenient as my innocence get in the way of that."

"You don't know that!" Francesca is appalled at the very idea but panicked because she knows he could well be right.

"Indeed I do not and have no desire to find out. We must get back on the road as soon as possible."

"No! We have to go back!"

"Have you lost your mind? Do you want to become a widow?"

"Of course not, but don't you see that if we keep going it will be seen as an admission of guilt?"

He pauses to consider this, knowing it to be true but cannot commit to going back for it amounts to suicide as far as he's concerned.

"Do you not wish to even try to clear your name?" She urges.

"It won't make any difference. The law is not what it should be, remember?"

She's about to protest, but it occurs to her that even with Vaisey and Winchester out of the picture, Guy might not receive a fair hearing for who would take over now? Smythe? Or perhaps Prince John? A shudder of revulsion passes through her at the thought, but with two sheriffs dead, the regent could well take matters into his own hands.

"I will speak for you." She says, placing a kiss upon his bandaged hand. _Even if it means I will have to face him again, _she silently adds.

Guy watches her and can tell from the set of her jaw what she is thinking. His anger melts in the face of her determination.

He pulls her into his lap, letting her warmth and touch console him.

"And when they say that you are my wife and would say anything to protect me?" He nuzzles into her neck, leaving kisses there that make her breathing stutter.

"I will tell them that yes I am and yes, I would, but Thornton is not your wife and he saw us leave."

He stops for a moment and she feels his lips curl into a smile before he picks up where he left off. It doesn't last, however, for his deepest worry claws it's way to the surface and when she turns to look at him, she can see he is genuinely afraid.

"Guy, they cannot hang you for a crime you did not commit."

"No, but they might for the crimes that I did."


	65. Chapter 65

LXV

Sir Edward of Knighton, the old (and new) Sheriff of Nottingham, was lost in his thoughts.

He's moved himself back into his old study at the castle and is pondering the riddle that is the murder of his predecessors. The traces of Vaisey in the room make it difficult to think, and in particular, the collection of skulls with their macabre gap-toothed grins are disturbing him exceedingly.

"Can we do something about them?" He asks, as one of the servants comes in to check on him.

The girl grimaces queasily and assures her new employer she'll get right on it. She removes her apron and throws it over the offending objects before departing to fetch reinforcements. Sir Edward nods and watches her leave, wondering how in God's name he ever got himself in such a situation.

He shakes his head and tries to recall his previous line of thought, but is so weirded out by Vaisey's gruesome decorations that he has to leave the room. He's barely taken a step out of the door when he finds himself surrounded by guards.

_Oh dear. _

"Look fellows, I don't know what this is, but I assure you that I am doing my best to clear the matter up in a fair and just manner." He stammers nervously.

"Aye, we knows that Sir Edward, that's why we come lookin' for ye..." one of the men replies, chuckling to his colleagues.

The tension dissolves instantly. Sir Edward gestures that they should file into his study. "Well, err... what can I do for you?"

"I think we should introduce ourselves first: we are Sir Guy of Gisborne's men. Vaisey liked to think we were his but that weren't true my lord, not a bar of it."

Murmurs of agreement from all present.

Sir Edward is intrigued. He was not inclined to think well of the man - he tried to force his daughter into marriage and very nearly killed her after all, but he's curious as to what the men have to tell him all the same.

"And as you can imagine Sir, we're not on board with the allegations made against Sir Guy. We know you were friends with Lord Winchester, but we're askin' you to keep an open mind 'bout what we're about to tell you..."

Sir Edward is struck by that uneasy feeling again. It has been coming and going ever since he heard that Sir Guy had murdered Vaisey, for the very simple reason that it didn't make any sense. Add to that a conversation he'd had with Thornton, who was positive he watched a newlywed Sir Guy and Francesca quit Locksley for greener pastures first thing yesterday morning and well, nothing seemed to add up here.

So it was with an open mind that he prompted the men to continue, but a heavy heart, for he had a feeling he was about to find something out about his friend that he wasn't going to like.

"Well, me and some of the lads 'ere got talkin' to Vera, who is resident mother hen at the castle - bandagin' heads, stitchin' up wounds and the like - an' she told us that yesterday mornin' Winchester paid her a visit askin' her to help 'im with err... how shall I put this...? a delicate problem."

Sir Edward cannot fail to notice the smirks and titters of the men, and despite not having a clue where this was going, is thoroughly engrossed.

"He was injured?"

"Yes Sir, it seems he received a blow to the crown jewels."

The Sheriff frowns, "Sorry I didn't quite catch that."

The guards smirk and trade knowing looks as if to say 'oh yes you did.'

"Y'know, his meat and two veg." A younger guard offers and the old man nearly chokes on his own spit.

_Surely they can't mean...?_

"If you'll beg my pardon, Sir Edward," this comes from one of the elder guards who's better at keeping a grip on himself, "Lord Winchester needed assistance to remove a quill from his knob and b*llocks."

For a moment it is so quiet that one can hear Vaisey's birds twittering from the other side of the castle, but then the lads descend into fits of giggles. A round of shushing ensues, but none of them can keep a straight face and all Sir Edward can do is shake his head whilst boggling over the weirdness that has become his life of late.

Eventually, one of the men has calmed down enough to get to the point.

"The reason we're telling you this, is that we think he received the injury whilst murdering Sheriff Vaisey."

Sir Edward's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "Really?"

"Vera said he showed up a right mess, all hysterical and covered in blood..."

"To be honest Dave, if you had a quill stickin' out of yer wang, I think you'd be hysterical and covered in blood an' all."

_A fair point_, Sir Edward thinks, before wondering if perhaps he's been too hasty in taking up the old job again.

"Aye, you're not wrong there Nigel, but she reckons he was practically doused in the stuff you know? Drippin' with it..."

Sir Edward stops him there, for he needs no further elaboration. Too much blood to have come from his own wound, is what his helpful guest is getting at and if what Sir Edward is currently picturing in his mind's eye makes him queasy, then the accompanying implications have him nearly pass out.

_There is only one person whose blood it could be..._

He moves to steady himself as the revelation sinks in. His mind supplies him with the possibility that the servant might be lying but why would she? And as much as the rational part of him wishes to suspend judgement until he has spoken to the woman himself and has evidence to corroborate her story, his gut is telling him that this is the detail he'd been missing.

He didn't want it to be. His mind fought all the way, searching for other explanations, but somehow he just knew.

So Winchester attacked Vaisey. Vaisey fought back and Winchester finished him off. Winchester hangs the crime on Gisborne...

and ends up dead in the forest.

_?_

Sir Edward sighs. He thanks the men for their diligent enquiries and is truly grateful for their help but dismisses them for he feels a headache coming on.

_So many questions..._

Could it be that Gisborne never left at all? That he lied to Thornton? Had the servant watch him leave and went into hiding instead? Perhaps he murdered Vaisey after all and Winchester's wound was inflicted by him! Maybe the blood on Winchester came from him! _But with so much blood that would mean that he was dead as well..._ Ok, so he had nothing to do with Vaisey's death, but maybe he found out and murdered Winchester in revenge... Winchester announcing that Sir Guy was the killer was motive enough surely? He'd known about the plan to burn the forest; it had been Vaisey's plan for him, so he could've followed the men and attacked them as outlaws would, thus hanging the crime on Robin...?

Sir Edward shook his head. None of those answers seemed to fit. Who spares the life of a woman who betrayed him, marries the woman who encouraged him to do so, leaves what he can't take with him to the servants and quits the home and lands he'd so readily taken from his rival only to go on a murdering spree? It makes for a strange honeymoon by any standards.

No, this explanation wasn't working for him and if he's going to get to the bottom of this matter, he needs more information. He reminds himself to send more men to look for Smythe.

_Another loose end..._

Winchester's right-hand man was missing and presumed dead. The last anybody had seen of him was in the forest as the men were under attack from 'outlaws'.

Could it be that Gisborne not only murdered Winchester but took Smythe hostage? Would ransom demands be made soon? Or perhaps he killed him too, and the men have not yet found the body? All one knew at this point was that the guards returned from the forest with Winchester's body, babbling on about outlaws and attacks, and somehow, in the melee, they'd lost Smythe.

He is interrupted in his thoughts by a knock at the door and he's thinking it's the girl again; come to take away the skulls, but is surprised to see one of the search party stride into the room.

"We have him Sir."

"You do? Well that's excellent news, send him in."

"Err... no Sir, he's in the dungeons."

Sir Edward looks at the man as if he's gone mad. "What are you talking about? The man has been through an ordeal, the dungeons are hardly the place for him surely?"

The guard mirrors the look he's just received, "I was thinking Sir that the dungeons are exactly the place for him, what with him being a murderer..."

"Murderer? I thought he'd been attacked! That's what the men said..."

"Attacked Sir? I don't reckon anyone's got the balls to go attacking Sir Guy of Gisborne after what he's done, besides, they'd have to get through his wife first."

* * *

"Sorry, could you say that again?"

Sir Edward was by no means deaf, but this was something he definitely had not reckoned with, and therefore needed to hear twice.

"He put up no resistance. Was cooperative in fact. Got a little testy when we tried to separate him from his wife, but other than that, was no trouble at all Sir."

Try as he might, Sir Edward can't process this. The Master of Arms he knows, would never surrender quietly.

"And you found him where exactly?"

"On the west road, riding towards us."

"Coming back!?"

"Looks like it Sir."

The sheriff shakes his head. He is not ungrateful; one should never look a gift horse in the mouth after all, but to have Sir Guy willingly give himself up is not something he would've expected in a million years.

As he arrives at the threshold of this most detested part of the castle, he is surprised that all is quiet. One of his first tasks upon returning to the job had been to release the prisoners held on nonsense charges, but the place is not empty altogether, and the sight of Sir Guy of Gisborne being brought in should certainly have been enough to cause a ruckus. The sheriff descends into the darkness expecting god knows what, but the scene that greets him is surreally calm.

The prisoners are munching away on what appears to be bread and cheese, only stopping to greet him as he passes by, and the source of the food becomes quickly apparent as he observes Lady Francesca preparing a morsel for her husband and passing it through the bars. When they notice they have company, they put the food to one side and stand to attention. Sir Guy's expression instantly hardens into something wary and defensive. Lady Francesca, however, smiles openly, albeit nervously.

"Good day, Lord Sheriff." She greets, and moves to squeeze Guy's hand through the bars which prompts him to reluctantly do the same.

"Good day milady, Sir Guy. I am most surprised that you have returned to us." Sir Edward truthfully remarks and Guy scoffs.

_You're not the only one _he is thinking, for he still can't quite believe that he's been so foolhardy either, especially now he's behind bars.

"We're here to dispute the allegations." Francesca explains, looking Sir Edward directly in the eye. Sir Guy says nothing, only nods at her words, a small wistful smile threatening to emerge upon his lips and it is at that moment, the elder man can tell he is smitten.

"Where have you been?" Sir Edward addresses the knight, sure that any plans they had upon leaving Locksley came from him.

"Not far. We only made it a days ride west of here before the news caught up with us." Guy answers and Sir Edward studies him closely to discern if he is lying.

_West? What could one be wanting west of here? There's nothing... the welsh country perhaps? Christ, he must've really wanted to get away from Vaisey if he was wanting to go there... _

In an eerie act of mind reading, Sir Guy answers his question. "Vaisey has lands on the welsh border - knows I detest it there, it is the last place he'd think I would hide." The smirk he is so renowned for is firmly in place here, but then as he thinks of Vaisey, his expression changes and Sir Edward can tell he's silently correcting himself for speaking of him in the present tense.

"Not Sherwood forest then?" Sir Edward asks with Winchester's murder in mind.

"No, and I would hardly return with my wife to the scene of her abduction would I?" Guy replies testily and in doing so, makes a good point. Sir Edward might have forgotten the day Robin took her hostage, but Guy never would.

"Not even to have your revenge on Winchester?"

Sir Guy takes Francesca's hand which prompts her to look at him. "I already have my revenge on him." He says, addressing the sheriff but looking only at his lady. It is a scorching look – a look of lovers – and Sir Edward shuffles uncomfortably, feeling every bit the third wheel.

"And Smythe? What did he ever do to you?"

Sir Edward observes the knight keenly and receives as answer an irritated frown.

"What of him? I hardly know the man." Guy answers honestly.

"He is missing. Presumed dead. I thought perhaps you could tell me what has become of him."

Francesca feels her anger rise and is about to defend her husband, but the touch of Guy's hand upon her shoulder calms her instantly.

"You thought wrong. I cannot help you. The little I know came from a conversation overheard at an inn and as inconceivable as it may seem to you, that is how I came to learn of Vaisey and Winchester's deaths."

Sir Edward is shaking his head. If this is true then it leaves him with more questions than answers. He paces in silence as he considers his next move and Sir Guy interrupts his thoughts with an unwelcome insinuation;

"It is my understanding that Winchester was found in the forest. If so, then I wonder that Robin Hood is not here – surely he could help you with your enquiries..."

It is the sheriff's lieutenant of old saying this, cruel smirk firmly in place and Sir Edward pointedly ignores him, finding the comment unworthy of retort.

Francesca sighs, causing Guy to shrug as if to say 'just pointing it out.' It isn't the point he's making that bothers her though, it's the fact that he still can't resist taking a dig at the outlaw any chance he gets.

"Were many wounded in the attack?" His thoughts have moved on to his men now - it had been the one thing that had bothered him about leaving – that they would have to face the outlaws without him, especially after losing so many last time.

Sir Edward fixes him with an incredulous stare, thinking this must be an act - another attempt to evade suspicion and he is about to say as much, when it occurs to him that that nobody other than Winchester was hurt.

_That is impossible..._

He turns to leave, impatient to have this detail confirmed, but Guy urges him to answer the question.

"Your men did not go, if that is what you are wondering..." The sheriff replies, surprising the knight with his answer. He pauses a moment, weighing his words wisely, "They are loyal to you... you should be grateful."

He leaves this parting comment with the knight, who frowns, but nods in agreement.

* * *

"So let me get this straight, are you telling me that none of you actually saw who attacked you?"

Sir Edward was becoming increasingly agitated.

They had already established that Smythe had been the one to sound the alarm, that the men had been searching the cave as Winchester was wounded and that other than Winchester, nobody had been hurt. In answer to this latest question however, he received only confused looks.

"Were you under fire upon departing the cave?"

"Smythe told us to take cover..."

"Yes, you already told me that, but were you under fire?"

"Well... we must've been..."

Sir Edward sighs. If they were confused then what chance did he have?

Realising there were to be no satisfactory answers to be had from the men, the only option left was to scout the area. He informs them of his intentions and a few ask if they might accompany him. He was about to take them up on the offer, so they could walk him through what happened, when he notices a messenger from Knighton trying to catch his attention. He excuses himself from the men to see what message he brings.

"You go to Sherwood?" The messenger inquires. Sir Edward nods the affirmative. "Well I can spare you the journey. Robin and his men were already there and get this: they found no arrows."

Sir Edward turns his head sharply, "None at all?"

"None." The man gives a muted grin, "A strange attack to be sure Lord Sheriff – only two arrows fired, both found in the dead man and other than that nothing..."

"This was no attack..." the sheriff replies assuredly, "this was a vendetta."

The servant nods and having delivered his message, turns to leave.

Sir Edward catches his arm. "Could you do something for me now?"

"Of course, my lord."

"I need you to travel a days ride west..."


	66. Chapter 66

LXVI

"Good to see you're recovered milady, you had us worried there."

Marian smiles and thanks the men keeping watch over the dungeons.

"All quiet downstairs, then?" She inquires, noticing they're on an impromptu break – sharing a plate of biscuits.

"Oh yes milady, good as gold, not a peep out of any of 'em."

She nods and makes her way down the steps, relieved that all is peaceful, but nervous all the same.

The last time she saw Guy was at their disastrous wedding. That he'd gone on to marry Francesca made her heart lighter, but she feared he would still be angry with her - after all, a new wife did not make all that had happened between them magically disappear...

_You betrayed him Marian, he won't have forgotten that, no matter what his current situation is..._

A dull ache in her stomach signals her unease and the quiet makes her even more jittery somehow. She warily scans the cells and the prisoners murmur greetings or sentiments similar to those she'd received from the jailors. She nods and thanks them before continuing towards the furthest cell, reserved for their most prominent prisoner.

As she hears the voice that is unmistakably his, she freezes. She rebukes herself for her cowardice, but cannot find it in her to move.

She has never heard his voice like this.

Soft. Warm. Impossibly deep.

He spoke barely above a whisper, but it was all she could hear.

Without even realising it, she moves towards the sound and is stopped in her tracks by the sight of Guy and Francesca embracing. To say she had not expected this was an understatement. Had her brain been functioning, she would've been surprised that the guards had allowed it (one-on-one access to the prisoner for the meagre bribe of a plate of biscuits no less) but her brain was not functioning and her shock was entirely reserved for the sight of a shirtless Sir Guy in a clinch with his wife.

She couldn't see Francesca's face, for the lady had her back to her, but she could see Guy's, and he was so altered it made the breath catch in her throat. For one, he was sporting a beard. This alone, was so foreign to her, it made her double take. Her mind tells her to quit being so ridiculous – a man in prison on a murder charge hardly has personal grooming as his top priority.

Added to that, is his state of undress, Marian wonders what exactly she is interrupting here before her eyes direct her to the wash cloth in Francesca's hand and the pail of steaming water nearby. She soon realises that despite Francesca's kind gesture in service of her spouse, Guy has other things on his mind than getting clean. He is playfully tussling with her - she tries to give him the wash cloth and he is turning her attentions into something entirely more intimate.

It is the look in his eyes that really floors Marian though - the intensity with which he looks at Francesca - as if he's about to devour her, and Marian shivers for if she'd thought the looks he'd thrown her way were sultry, then she'd honestly had no idea.

Satisfied he has distracted his wife from her errand, he kisses her then and it is a kiss to make knees weak. His hands slide slowly up her back, one stopping at the nape of her neck, cradling her head and pressing her closer to him so his mouth can take more of hers, whilst the other continues on to the edge of her headdress, gently pulling it down. Marian sees Francesca raise a hand to stop him and hears a soft moan of protest. Guy chuckles against his wife's lips and breaks the kiss to look into her eyes. His look is one of such charming mischief, it makes Marian befuddled and it isn't even directed at her, god knows what Francesca makes of it.

"Let me" he whispers, and this playful order is spoken so huskily, Marian is not surprised Francesca relents. Christ, if he'd looked at her like that, she probably would've let him do anything.

As the headdress falls to the floor and Guy folds Francesca into him, the heat of their kiss intensifies and Marian's shock turns to discomfort. She could do nothing for having stumbled upon them and one could forgive her unthinking curiosity but now her being here was just plain wrong.

She turns to flee the scene, hoping that they are too wrapped up in each other to have noticed her presence, when she stumbles over a length of chain which rattles noisily.

In the silence, her heartbeat deafens her. A thousand curse words come to mind, all of them distinctly unladylike.

Embarrassing doesn't even begin to cover this. She wonders if it's possible for her to curl up into a ball and become an ooze upon the stone floor.

"Something we can do for you Lady Marian?"

Oh, that voice. Vaisey might've been in charge of this place, but that voice held power like no other. She runs hot – at the mercy of an all-consuming blush and turns to face them, cringing all the while.

Francesca tries to part from her lover, but he holds her to him, leaving her no option but to turn clumsily in his arms whilst trying to straighten out her mussed up clothing. Guy finds her flustered fidgeting adorable and folds his arms tighter around her, pulling her back firmly against his chest and pressing a kiss to her hair.

Marian has great difficulty in bringing her eyes up to the couple, but Guy has asked her a question, so it can be delayed no further.

"Yes, err... forgive the intrusion, Sir Guy, Lady Gisborne..." She looks at each in turn with what could only be described as apologetic mortification and Francesca blushes in sympathy. Guy on the other hand, is enjoying this immensely – that smirk has never been smugger.

"I came to fetch you. The council of nobles is assembled." Her hand drifts unconsciously to her father's keys at her belt as she takes a step closer to the door of the cell.

"Could Sir Edward not have done that?" Guy asks, suspecting there is more to this visit than meets the eye.

Correctly, as it happens, because there is. Marian swallows nervously, having once more forgotten how astute he can be. "Yes, of course... I err... came here because I... I wish to thank you both for what you did for me..."

"Oh..." Francesca replies, hoping to find an eloquent reply somewhere in her brain but failing to do so.

Guy on the other hand, knows exactly how to express his feelings and wastes no time doing so, "You need not thank me. It is my wife you should thank. I think you know what I would've done." His tone is cold and he walks away, turning his back to their visitor, effectively shutting down any further discussion with him.

Francesca smiles apologetically, but does not contradict her husband. They both know how close it came that day. What might have been.

Marian shuffles uncomfortably as she considers his words, but does exactly as he suggested – thanking his lady profusely and sincerely. Francesca receives her thanks with good grace, but struggles to respond. What exactly does one say to that? She was glad to help but as she sees it, anybody would've done the same. In similar vein is the fact that she would've spoken out for anyone in that situation – her good nature could hardly allow her to do otherwise. But perhaps the main reason she felt uneasy was because much of what had motivated her to save Marian was not entirely unselfish - that is to say it sprung from the desire to save a life but also to save the man she loved from himself.

Of course, she can say none of this so the conversation lapses into an awkward silence as the nervous tension coming from the women and the resentful tension from Guy permeates the room.

"I don't expect you to forgive me Guy... but I hope in time you will understand." Marian eventually offers and Francesca finds herself wincing at this for although it is a worthy sentiment, she knows Guy will not give two figs for it at present.

The rigid set of his body as he throws a shirt over his head confirms this - the wounds might have scabbed over, but were still raw as ever as far as he was concerned and Francesca prays Marian will not try to clumsily press the point home.

As it is, he doesn't give her the opportunity. He simply turns to his wife, keeping his expression neutral, (a signal he will start no quarrel), takes her hand and walks her to the entrance of his cell. He gestures with a flick of his head to the lock and waits for Marian to open it.

"Let's get this over with."

* * *

To look at Sir Guy of Gisborne one would never have thought he was worried.

He stood tall, reminding all present of his formidable height and bearing. He did not blanch at the pointed looks or jeers directed at him. He answered all questions succinctly and his tone never wavered.

It was an accomplished performance.

Francesca's heart clenched in her chest throughout – knowing what effort it cost him. He'd tried to hide his fear from her, but she had seen it – his mask had slipped for a brief moment just before they were to enter the great hall and she'd squeezed his hand to give him strength, but in truth she was terrified.

She had convinced him to return. It was because of her they were here. To be on the run for leaving one's post was one thing, to be on the run for murder was another entirely.

"They will hunt us. Everywhere. They will not give up... and when they find us, they shall care nothing for our side of the story..."

Guy had naturally protested, insisting that they would care nothing for their side of the story no matter what they did, but Francesca had reasoned that cooperating with the authorities would make for a strong defence. After all, what murderer rides back to the scene of the crime and calmly hands himself in?

She had been so sure that this was the best course of action and had argued the point long and hard with Guy but to see him now... to know how afraid he was... a part of her wished she hadn't. That Sir Edward had returned as sheriff gave her hope. That Marian had survived had surely not hurt their case either, but still, one could not help but fear the worst – that the desire to make Guy pay for his past might be too strong to resist now that they had him where they wanted him.

After Guy had finished, it was her turn. She had been nervous at first – unused to being the object of attention for an entire room – but an unfailing protectiveness of the man she loved carried her through. It was this in particular though, that seemed to fascinate her inquisitors most of all.

"You are no doubt aware of acts committed by Sir Guy of Gisborne against the people of Nottingham..." One of the lords says, thus broaching the subject that Francesca had been expecting all along. She nods and feels the rapt attention of every single person present heavy upon her.

"How is it then that you can defend him?"

Silence reigns as she considers how best to explain. So much rests upon her answer. She wants so badly to look at Guy but does not, she keeps her eyes upon the man who asked the question.

"Because that is not who he is."

Uproar. A cacophony of angry voices. Vehement opposition.

Francesca automatically shrinks into herself but then something inside her says no, she will not have this, they can think what they like but not without having heard what she has to say first. Sir Edward notices her agitation and calls for order – keen to hear how she will respond.

"No person is one thing. That is not the way things are. We are many things and each and every one of us has it in us to be good or bad as circumstances allow. Can any one of us know what it is to be him?" She gestures to Guy but cannot look at him, uncomfortable to talk about him without having his input, "Can any of us know what it was to have Vaisey as a master? To have that man rule over every single aspect of our lives? Or claim that in his position we would've acted differently?"

She hears someone scoff at this and turns her attention directly to them – her ire raised by their cynical dismissal of what she is saying, "It is so easy to point the finger but unless we know what it is live another man's life, how can we know what we might do?" She pauses to look at the different faces for signs of at least the attempt to understand. Her eyes linger upon a hooded figure in the gallery. She knows who it is. She remembers all too well what he said that day in the forest as he tore into the man she loved. His presence makes her all the more determined.

"I know that many of you do not care to hear these words: it is too late, the damage is done, you shall not be convinced. But you asked me a question and like it or not, this is my answer. I can defend him because he is so much more than his lowest acts – which is something that applies to each and every one of us. We are prisoners of our circumstances. We have choices yes, but there is much we cannot change. Be it the death of family, the loss of home, the iron fist of the law or the whims of those we must obey." She looks up to their shrouded guest and though it is Guy she is speaking of, she knows how these words apply to him also.

"All I ask is that you consider the whole story, not just the parts that you choose to."


	67. Chapter 67

LXVII

It had been Robin Hood's wish to attend the council of nobles' assembly as he had done in old times.

Alas, it wasn't to be. Sir Edward knew he'd had nothing to do with the murders of Vaisey or Winchester but at this point, nobody else did.

Luckily, a concession was made for him – he was allowed to attend, but was told to remain 'invisible' as Sir Edward put it.

Of course, the sheriff could see him and Marian had rolled her eyes at the very sight of him, but more alarming had been how Sir Guy had instantly guessed it was him (and thrown a smirk in his direction) and Lady Francesca had practically addressed him directly during her parting comments.

It had been an interesting meeting so far and as much as he was loath to admit it, Gisborne and his wife made a convincing case for his innocence. Thornton was next up and his testimony was well received, as was Emily's.

Sir Edward was just asking the guards to bring in Vera when Lord Cavendish interrupted proceedings by asking to make a statement. No one was more surprised than his own daughter, who, despite seeming formidable during her own questioning, now squirmed nervously in her seat.

The lord himself, glanced only briefly at his estranged offspring, before handing a piece of paper to Sir Edward and taking his place at the front.

"What is this Lord Cavendish?" Sir Edward asks, holding the paper up for all to see.

"It is the letter my daughter left for me at Locksley." He replies, looking over at the girl in question. Francesca keeps head bowed, it is the first she has seen of her father since her return, but she finds she cannot look at him.

"Informing you of her marriage to Sir Guy and departure?"

Cavendish answers in the affirmative and then gives a brief description of events leading up to the discovery of the note. So far, so good. What nobody bargains for though, is what he says next;

"Sir Guy did not murder Sheriff Vaisey, that is absolutely out of the question."

Francesca's head shoots up – her face a picture of astonishment - her father is the last person she expected to defend Guy, that much is obvious.

Sir Edward asks him to explain and he tells him that not only did Winchester talk of murdering Vaisey the previous evening, (after Smythe informed him how close he came to being poisoned) but openly admitted to murdering his rival shortly after the deed.

This causes great furore. That Cavendish should say such things about his closest friend was not something anybody had reckoned with. Loud discussion breaks out amongst the nobles, quickly becoming heated, until Sir Edward calls for order once more. Francesca hasn't moved a muscle throughout – frozen in a state of wide-eyed shock – wondering what prompted her father to turn against his friend to help the man she'd left him for.

"And what of Winchester? Do you have any information pertaining to his murder?" Sir Edward asks, happy for one miracle but hoping for two.

"My daughter is not a liar. She has on occasion omitted the truth, but that had more to do with my temper than anything else. She would never lie about a thing like this. If she said they quit Nottingham, then they did."

*

Francesca was in a daze.

Her father had always been a difficult man. Selfish. Bad tempered. Set in his ways. Had someone asked her if he loved her, she would've had to think about it. A long time. Before probably coming to the conclusion she'd reached in her note to him:

_I have always been a disappointment to you without even trying - it shouldn't be any different then now that I am. _

She reasons that there must be selfish motives for this about face from him. He is no doubt concerned about what the allegations mean for the family name. But even so, that he went out of his way to do this, that he spoke of her in that way - well, it was more than he's ever done for her in her entire life and she finds herself blinking back tears at the thought of it.

It was a subtle nod in the direction of acceptance perhaps. A thawing of relations. She was too cautious to think more of it than that...

and yet...

it was something, wasn't it?

* * *

The surprises kept coming.

In keeping with Cavendish's statement concerning his daughter and Sir Guy's whereabouts at the time of the murder, Sir Edward decides to bring in a witness early.

Irene Ramsbottom of the Cross Inn recognised the couple immediately and confirmed that she had not only seen them at her place of employment, but had in fact, been the one to break the news to them of the murders in Nottingham.

"Aye, I'd hardy forget 'im..." she points to Sir Guy, "went white as a sheet he did, an' nearly chopped his bloody finger off!"

Voices erupt loudly throughout the hall.

Guy closes his eyes and reflexively clenches his injured hand. His head is bowed and the breath he'd been holding slowly leaks out of him. Francesca is not much better - both of them are so unused to having the world on their side, they can hardly believe this is happening. As he opens his eyes to find his wife battling tears, he takes her into his arms. No words pass between them; they are still too stunned for that, but they can bask in the immeasurable relief this confirmation of their alibi brings.

If Irene's statement wasn't enough for the unbelievers, then Vera's grizzly tale of Winchester's visit to her on the morning of the murder certainly did the job. There was no disputing who murdered Vaisey after that. Sir Edward had one of the guards who'd accompanied the lord to the forest confirm that the man was injured for good measure.

Sadly, what the guard could not confirm was who attacked them. Indeed, none of the men who'd escorted Winchester to Sherwood could. The reason for this was because no one had attacked them. The only man who'd been attacked was now dead. Sir Edward explained this to the assembly, basing his theory on the lack of arrows to be found. He received much protest for his efforts – there were of course, theories aplenty as to what had happened, but he silences them by directing a question at the newly exonerated Sir Guy of Gisborne;

"Who is Willy Irwell?"

*

Sir Guy was hesitant to answer.

Not because he did not know, but because he did not see what Willy had to do with any of this. He says as much to Sir Edward, who calls Father Thomas to come fill in the gaps.

The day after Vaisey and Winchester met their demise, the priest was most astonished to find that his church had received a hefty donation.

Coins and jewellery. Stuffed into his horse's saddlebags.

At first he'd assumed it had been Sir Guy's doing: the knight had promised reparations for the damage he'd caused to the church on the day of the wedding - there was only one problem with this theory though; Thornton had already taken care of it with Sir Guy's permission.

A second donation seemed odd to Father Thomas, particularly one so generous, but he scarcely had time to think of it; the murders had the people of Locksley frightened, and as priest he was much sought after. It was days later that his thoughts finally returned to the money.

"Naturally I was keen to get repairs under way at the church and it was whilst paying labourers that I found the note."

Sir Edward holds the note up for all to see and then passes it to Gisborne.

_For the oppressed people of Nottingham._

_In the name of Willy Irwell._

* * *

So who was Willy Irwell?

Well, most people were familiar with his name; his hanging had been quite the event several years earlier. Yes, attempting to murder the next in line to the throne will do that for you.

The problem was that he was innocent. Oh, he was guilty of attempted murder alright, but not of Prince John. As the bombshell hit that in fact Vaisey had been the target, the great hall of Nottingham grew eerily silent. As ever more despicable details came to the surface courtesy of a bone dry narrative from Gisborne, it got even worse.

"Nottingham was Prince John's gift to Vaisey for having caught the man who'd tried to murder him - it was because of Willy that Vaisey and I came to be here."

A weary look from Sir Edward seemed a fitting signal to leave it there, as was the appalled look on Francesca's face – Guy had never told her the full story and was deeply regretting it now.

Still, there is one detail that interests him and the heavy silence does not stop him from asking about it, even though he already knows the answer;

"The money... was it Vaisey's?"

Sir Edward nods. Of course it was. He'd already asked the men if they recognised the jewellery and they remembered seizing such items from Nottingham residents at Vaisey's behest.

"The same will happen in Winchester." Guy declares and Sir Edward knows he is right.

* * *

Sir Edward goes on to prove that Robin and his men did not commit the murders of Vaisey and Winchester just as he'd done with Sir Guy.

Every single servant at Knighton testifies in the outlaws' favour. Nobody could doubt after that.

Oh, there were snide comments from one or two of the nobles concerning Sir Edward 'sympathising with outlaws' and the like, but the sheriff shuts them down swiftly, saying that as far as he is concerned, any rulings under Vaisey's jurisdiction had nothing to do with him and are therefore null and void as far as he is concerned.

"You know me of old, you know how I do things – I ask you to leave Vaisey's persecutions at the door if you please and if not, then I suggest you find someone else for the job."

The silence that follows is deeply satisfying to say the least.

Alas, not everything is so easy. Solving the murder of Lord Winchester proves to be a major headache.

As Gisborne predicted, there was indeed a donation made to the people of Winchester in Willy Irwell's name but by the time that information comes to light, the man they've come to suspect has practically disappeared into thin air.

Smythe was always two steps ahead.

Not only had he fooled the men into thinking they were being attacked by outlaws, he also ordered them to retreat with Winchester's body to Nottingham. They thought nothing of it when he told them he'd cover for them and follow directly - in their panic, they'd been grateful for his clearheaded instructions. When he didn't show up, they naturally assumed the worst and became distraught - thinking he'd sacrificed himself for them - the last thing they suspected was that he'd made a run for it. In this he had fooled everybody and none more so than Guy of Gisborne, who'd witnessed him save Winchester's life the previous evening.

The man was a phantom. Lord Cavendish directed Sir Edward to Winchester's friend who'd introduced Smythe to Winchester, but he admitted he hardly knew the man either and had met him through a friend of a friend etc.

The only people who knew him weren't talking. Willy Irwell's relatives knew 'Smythe' alright - had known him his whole life for he belonged to family and they could've answered any and all of Sir Edward's inquiries but of course, they did not. As they saw it, the law had failed them and they were hardly about to give up the man who brought them justice. Not long after Sir Edward's messenger had spoken to them, they disappeared as well, having received a donation of their own – no doubt headed to greener pastures where the name of Willy Irwell was not tainted with shame.

Sir Edward continued in his enquiries regardless, keen to leave no loose ends, but as things returned to normality in Nottingham, life ended up taking precedence over death. People simply lost interest in the investigation; didn't want to hear any more about it - none of them had cared much for Vaisey and even less for Winchester - all anyone wanted to do is move on.

"Let Prince John find the culprit if he so chooses..." became the general consensus on the council of nobles and Sir Edward finds himself readily agreeing; he has enough to do as sheriff – righting the many wrongs exacted upon the people under Vaisey's rule. In this, he is supported wholeheartedly by practically everybody, though some of his decisions are contentious.

That Gisborne is moved from the dungeon to take up his old quarters, for example, sparks heated debate. That Robin of Locksley moves from the forest back into his old house (with his men in tow) also. Rumours of a visit from Prince John swiftly put an end to all that however. Contentious or not, nobody is keen to have the progress made by Sir Edward reversed by the volatile regent.

The change is gradual. Baby steps. Sir Edward has learned to be cautious. He is in a tentative position he knows; bold moves could rock the boat.

It seems that Sir Guy feels the same way. Sir Edward asks him his future plans and is surprised that the knight has no wish to relinquish his former job.

"I could not do it to my wife. Prince John took an interest in her. I won't put her at risk."

They have plans to journey south. To settle in the southwest. Near to Francesca's cousin. Far from politics and power.

Sir Edward can't say he blames them.


	68. Chapter 68

LXVIII

Sir Guy of Gisborne was not a natural when it came to mingling at court.

His tall powerful frame made many nervous. His serious demeanour was off-putting to others. His reserved nature and tendency to give curt answers made conversation with him difficult.

It was fortunate then, that neither he nor his wife cared about any of that.

Indeed, the only time they went to court was to visit old friends who worked there. They didn't set foot in the main hall once.

Lady Natalia Watmough often asked them to accompany her, as did Lady Lydia Belmont, but Lady Francesca Gisborne could not be tempted.

She preferred the tranquility of home. The contentment that came with running her own household. The easy conversation to be had with friends and neighbours: no forced smiles, formal manners or stilted small talk.

Her sister and cousin understood her, of course, but never let the discussion drop without protest. Fortunately, this year, instead of protest, her reason not to go brought great joy to one and all: she was pregnant. Sir Guy was over the moon.

Though married life had done nothing to make him a social butterfly nor what one would call an easy-going type, Sir Guy of Gisborne was a loving husband and a devoted uncle. Lady Catherine Watmough was spoiled rotten in the Gisborne household and things could only get worse now a playmate was on the way.

He also proved to be a patient son-in-law: Lord Cavendish was not a frequent visitor to their home, but when he did deign to visit, he was received with adept forbearance. It seems the years with Vaisey were good for something after all. As it was, the old man had mellowed of late – his tantrums earned him only eye rolls or amused smirks in his daughter's home, and the one time he tried to bully her was the last time – Guy might not bare his teeth much these days, but when it came to his wife, he was the wolf of old when he had to be.

_The wolf of old..._

His life was so altered that at times, he forgot where he was. He would wake in the night and a terrible confusion would grip him - a dreadful panic that left him blinking helplessly in the dark, his heartbeat crashing loudly in his ears...

but then he would remember, and an incredible surge of relief would wash over him...

Francesca would stir beside him and it was as if even in sleep, she could sense his unease and would nuzzle against him as if to say 'hey, it's alright; I'm here', and he would feel so incredibly grateful that things were the way they were and all was as it should be. In these moments, his happiness would overwhelm him; his chest would tighten and he would feel a lump form in his throat... then he would shake his head, laughing softly and silently berate himself for being so soft.

He would regard his wife - her light, her glorious light that always drew him to her, just as it had that day in the stables all those years ago and he would place a kiss upon her forehead before drawing her into his arms and surrendering to a dreamless sleep.

What would the future hold for them? Well, everything and nothing. There were plans for sure, but who knew if they would ever come to fruition.

Guy spoke of a visit to his sister and Francesca asked him about his son, there were mentions of Locksley and jokes about 'Guy's first wife', wonderings about the people of Nottingham and quips about riding to Wales...

Talk of Gisborne...

of times gone by, of people long gone, of those who had loved them and those who had not...

of the lives they might have lived had one single thing been different... of the gratitude they felt that it had not been the case...

of trying to do the best you can with the hand life has dealt you... of holding on to the person you are, when all around you would have you be someone else...

of trying to understand, of trying to overcome, of trying to carry on when all hope is lost...

You see, there is nothing so inevitable as change.

One might think that where one is at, is where one will always be...

It isn't so.

The shadow is not eternal.

The shadow moves on.


End file.
